This is Our War
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Liz Moore is an accountant. From Stamford, CT. So just what the hell is she doing running WWE programming? And why won't Dean Ambrose leave her alone? Rated M
1. Chapter 1

My heart was pounding in my chest. Holy shit. I hadn't realized how…gigantic…these guys were.

I tried to shake myself out of it without physically shaking myself, which required a feat of strength previously unimagined. Vince McMahon was introducing me to a room full of wrestlers as their new boss, and here I was focusing in on the size of their pecs. Christ, Moore. Keep it together.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, I was living a normal life.

As normal as any life could be, working for the largest entertainment industry in the world. No, not Paramount or Disney – it was much cooler than that, at least in my little world. I worked for World Wrestling Entertainment, colloquially known as the WWE.

I wasn't putting anyone through tables or running ropes. I wasn't even a commentator, or a backstage reporter, or a ring announcer or referee. In fact, if you watched the product, you never would have seen me at all. I was in an office in Stamford, toiling away over pages full of columns of numbers.

Liz Moore, Certified Public Accountant. Pleasure to meet you, although I'm not sure you'll be able to say the same about me after hearing some of the...business tactics I chose to employ during a bit of a hostile situation I encountered.

But we'll get to that.

Back to the men with giant pecs.

I tried to take the measure of all the faces staring at me. Most were curious. Understandable. Some were dubious. Also understandable. A few were outright hostile – Paul Heyman, for one. Understandable, but ultimately unacceptable. I held his gaze for a long moment while Vince was introducing me, watching as he leaned over and murmured something to an uninterested CM Punk.

I decided to look away then. As usual, my timing was impeccable – Vince finished his mostly-unheard introduction and turned the floor over to me.

Well fuck. I hadn't planned for this 'introduce yourself' bullshit. I felt like I was back in school. But he was there, staring at me expectantly.

"Thank you Mr. McMahon," I started. "I appreciate the opportunity." I glanced around the room again and took a deep breath through my nose, trying not to appear as nervous as I was.

"I see a lot of doubt out there. I get it. I don't care." The words fell out of my mouth before I could think better of saying them. Might as well roll with it now.

"I realize that I don't look like your average GM. I'm not a former wrestler. I'm not an administrator. Hell, I'm just an accountant. But I came into this company for a reason – because I fucking love it."

I could see a sense of grudging admiration on a few faces.

"You work hard for me, you bust your ass out there – we won't have a problem. You stonewall, you act like a dick, you decide to just flop and be lazy – you're going to see yourself losing your spot. I'm equal-opportunity, boys. And girls," I added hastily. "Go give me what you got."

"I'd like to," a voice piped up from the back. A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile on my face in spite of myself. "Not even remotely interested," I retorted, not knowing who it was. It didn't really matter.

"All I'm saying," I refocused everyone, "is that if you put the effort in, you'll see doors open for you. You don't, well..." I shrugged. "It's all on you, guys. Clean slate from here on out."

I looked around, making sure to meet eyes with as many people as I could.

"So," I continued after I'd finished my sweeping eye contact, "go out there and let me see what you can do.

And wouldn't you know it...they did.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ms. Moore...Ms. Moore...!"

The last thing I wanted right now was Paul Heyman hustling after me as I walked to my new office, calling for me in his nasally voice.

But it was what I had going on. The downside of being the boss, I suppose – I couldn't just keep walking.

Even though I _desperately_ wanted to.

I turned around and forced a smile on my face, doing my best to not make it look like the grimace it felt like. "Mr. Heyman. How can I help you?"

He stuck out a hand, and I shook it – it was slightly damp, and I resisted the urge to wipe my hand off on my pants after he released it. Barely, but I resisted.

"Please, call me Paul," he said, putting an arm around my shoulders. I think he felt my discomfort, because he quickly pulled it away.

"I simply wanted to _welcome_ you aboard. It's wonderful to see a fresh face. Your policies sound...refreshing, if not a little misguided."

Here it was. I'd heard that Heyman had been in a right fit when he found out he'd been passed over as GM. Not only that, but passed over for me. A blonde bimbo from corporate. So I knew that he'd been trying to insert himself into my position, to undermine me and what I was doing. I guess I just hadn't expected it so soon.

"Having everyone fight for their spot, having everyone put their very best into the product...that's misguided? Telling them that hard work will be rewarded is misguided?" I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was polite skepticism. "I'm not sure why the principles of management are so different here as opposed to every other company in the world."

His smile had turned a bit harsh. "It's such a shame to see someone who knows so little about the business -"

"But apparently knows more than you," I replied, losing my temper. "After all, _I_ was hired and you were not. And I believe that's the whole issue behind this conversation, if I'm not mistaken." I took a small step towards him. "And between you and I, I'm very rarely mistaken."

His face had turned red. Good. I'd caught him.

I stepped back and smiled. "Mr. Heyman, our working relationship can be either rewarding or difficult. I'll let you dictate which it's going to be." I paused for a moment. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do believe I have a show to run."

I walked away, knowing deep down that I'd made a mistake in how I'd handled that. Paul Heyman could be a dangerous enemy on his own – but he had the backing of some major players among my superstars. My champion, CM Punk, was chief among them. As if that wasn't enough, Brock Lesnar was a 'Heyman guy' – granted, he wasn't around much, but when he was around...he could make life very difficult.

Rounding out his little crew was the trio known as The Shield. Previously only flak-jacket wearing terrorists, he'd focused their destruction and brought them under his wing. They were young, they were smart, and they were powerful.

All together, they could cause some serious damage to my reign here. But Heyman wouldn't be petty enough to do that.

Right?

Right?


	3. Chapter 3

The day everything changed – or at least the day it _started_ to change – began as one of the worst days of my life.

The clock rolled around to 12:07 before he walked in the door. He saw me sitting on the couch and opened his mouth, but I raised my hand for silence. All I did was point to the bag I'd packed for him by the door.

And just like that, three years of my life were gone. Walking out the door with the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with.

I kept it together until I heard his car pull back onto the street and drive away. After that, everything became a blur of tears and tissues and four a.m. infomercials for the NuWave oven. I was crying over infomercials for the NuWave oven, for Chrissakes. It was _that bad_.

I shouldn't have gone to work that day. I know that now. I was a goddamn mess.

I just needed something _normal_. After the absolute insanity of the last few months, where nothing had made sense, culminating in the thing that made the _least_ sense to me in a long time, I needed something routine.

A job as a CPA...that's about as routine as it gets. Even if it was with one of the largest companies in the world, a company where large men happened to beat the snot out of each other for good money.

I'd held out a secret hope when I first started that throwing people who pissed me off through tables would be acceptable. It wasn't. It was actually pretty routine office work, honestly. I had a cubicle in a little cubicle farm. I hung out with my numbers all day. I gossiped around the water cooler.

All par for the course.

I was kind of grateful for that when I walked in and headed straight to my desk. I knew I looked like hell, but nobody stopped me. I was able to settle in and stare at a spreadsheet for a few hours, occasionally clicking numbers listlessly.

"Liz?" My boss poked his head around the fabric wall. "Do you have a minute to discuss those numbers in my office?"

Shit. I'd forgotten about this. Week after a pay-per-view, they wanted to discuss the buyrates. Dismal, yet again. I'd just have to grin and bear it.

That's not quite how it happened when I got into the office, though. Ms. McMahon was there, awaiting the news with a misguided confidence. She got a bit...testy when I gave them to her.

"Your calculations are wrong," she said immediately.

"No, they're not." I was in no mood. Normally I'd grovel, I'd say I'd double-check, but I knew these numbers were right. "It's your product that's wrong. You had no build. The main event was thrown together last week, and it's something we've all seen a million times. You had a fifteen minute backstage segment so wrestlers could play with fucking action figures of themselves. It's the product that's wrong, and your fans don't want to pay for the shit you're putting out."

Great. I was going to be fired. I knew it, my boss knew it, the whole office probably knew it because I hadn't bothered to keep my voice down.

What the hell. The rest of my life was tanking; might as well set my professional life on fire too. I never could do things half-assed.

There was a long silence. Ms. McMahon measured me coldly. I didn't bow under the weight of her gaze. I didn't back down. If I was going down, I was going down saying what I knew to be true.

"What," she said after what felt like eternity, "would you suggest?"

I froze. "You mean which creative direction would I take?"

She nodded her head, once, keeping her eyes on me.

I blurted out the first few ideas that came to mind – all of the fantasy booking I'd done over the past few months but never, ever dreamed that I'd speak out loud.

When I finished, she just stared at me again for a few minutes, tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair.

"Interesting," she finally said. "Very interesting. You're dismissed."

I nodded curtly, my face hot. She'd listened to me spout off before firing me, at least.

I turned to go back to my desk and start packing.

"And check those numbers again," she added as I reached the door. "I still think there's a miscalculation there."

I stopped, my hand on the doorknob, and turned to look at her questioningly. She raised an eyebrow at my hesitation and nodded towards the door. "I didn't mean check them in an hour. Check them now."

Holy shit. I wasn't getting fired.

"Yes ma'am," I replied, hurrying out the door before she could change her mind.

Little did I know that my outburst had just opened up the door to a whole new world of crazy.


	4. Chapter 4

I was simultaneously exhausted and wired after my first show.

It didn't help that Mr. McMahon had elected to stay and watch me work, adding a layer of frenzy to every action I took and every decision I made.

I hoped next week would be a bit quieter. Looking back now, I can at least laugh at that incredibly misguided notion. Things were never going to be quiet again.

That night, though, ignorance was bliss.

I shook Mr. McMahon's hand as he left and then made a beeline for my makeshift office. My work was only just beginning.

I made it through maybe a quarter of what I wanted to do before I was interrupted by a knock on my door. I glanced up to see the slicked-back blonde hair and smiling blue eyes of Dolph Ziggler, one of the superstars I considered grossly underrated under the old regime.

"You got a minute?"

"Yeah," I lied, dropping my pen. "What's up?"

He took a small step forward. "I just wanted to say thanks for what you said. I hope you meant it, and I hope you don't get run out of town for it."

I managed to smile. "I hope so too."

"A few of us were going out for a drink. Do you want to join us?"

I debated for a minute, but goddamn I really could use a drink after the day I'd had. "Sure, what the hell," I said, grinning.

He smiled back. "Awesome. Need a few minutes?"

I looked at the papers I had strewn all over the table in front of me. "What gave it away?"

He laughed. "See you out front? Fifteen minutes?"

"If that," I replied, standing up and stretching. "See you out there."

I gathered up all of my notes and schedules and threw them into my laptop bag. I was out front in record time, meeting with a whole crew of men – Dolph, Sheamus, Daniel Bryan, Antonio Cesaro and, surprisingly, Wade Barrett.

I suddenly felt incredibly nervous. I was really here. I was really doing this. Not only that, but I was about to go out and socialize with a bunch of giants.

I almost backed out at that moment, feigned exhaustion. But Sheamus caught my eye and smiled, holding out one of his big hands for me to shake.

"Welcome aboard," he said in his thick Irish accent, his smile growing wider. "It's good to have some fresh blood."

"Yes," Cesaro agreed with his crisp Swiss pronunciation. "It is a new day indeed. Welcome."

I realized then that they were cool with me. I mean, yeah, I should have gotten that from the drink invitation...but it could have just been a politeness thing. Instead, these guys seemed genuinely pleased that I was joining them.

It was easy to relax after that, to cut loose a little bit and celebrate my first minor taste of success. I'd survived. It felt good.

The guys were marginally interested in my life before becoming their boss. Understandable, I suppose. I gave them the very, very basic story, excluding anything that might be even a little questionable. I knew even then that giving too much of myself to my employees wasn't a great idea. Sure, _these_ guys didn't seem all that malicious – but who knew who they would go and talk to after we parted ways?

I needed to be careful.

At the end of the night, I was pleased that I'd gone out. The guys were fun, especially Sheamus and Dolph. It was great to see the two of them trade jokes, and as a result I laughed more than I had in a long time.

I had an escort back to the hotel, a fact that pleased me when we encountered Paul Heyman in the lobby. Surrounded by these guys, I had no reason to submit to his questioning and his snark. After the long first night I'd had, I wasn't sure I'd handle it as well as I had the first time.

So I did something I later discovered was very dangerous – I ignored him as he stared a hole into the side of my head and continued joking with my new-found friends.

I discovered my mistake the following night at the Smackdown tapings, when, ignoring my carefully-planned schedule entirely, we started the show with Paul Heyman striding down to the ring with a self-important smirk on his face.

"This can't be good," I muttered, tossing the schedule in my hand aside and beginning to make the walk towards the ring.

I'd only made it to the curtain when he started speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Paul Heyman."

I stopped. So far, pretty standard. I was willing to see where this went.

As it turned out, it wasn't going anywhere I liked...and it went there fast.

"Some of you may know – although most of you don't – that we have a brand new General Manager." There were a few murmurs from the crowd. It wasn't public knowledge; I hadn't been introduced yet. Everyone felt it was better for me to get the hang of things backstage before becoming a public figure. I agreed, mostly out of sheer terror. I hated the idea of being on TV.

"Her name is Elizabeth Moore. Elizabeth comes to us from WWE Headquarters in Stamford, where she worked as an accountant. She has no previous experience in our storied and prestigious business, no – her experience lies solely with numbers. So one has to ask... _how_ did Ms. Moore rise to such a position so quickly? Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have the answer...and it is an _interesting_ one, a salacious and dirty little secret."

That was when I walked out, grabbing a microphone as I went. I was both pissed and concerned, and I figured that it would be better for me to face this head-on instead of hiding in the back.

"Tell me, Mr. Heyman," I said, putting on my best 'I'm brave' smile, "what secret am I hiding? I'm intrigued."

"See for yourself, Ms. Moore." He gestured up towards the screen, where a blurry picture of me with Dolph and Sheamus from last night was projected. Sheamus had his arm flung around my shoulders and we were laughing.

I looked at it and looked back at him. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

"Look awful cozy, don't you? Is that how you found your way here in the first place?"

I decided to play dumb, even as a deep well of rage began to boil inside of me. "By being personable and relating to my co-workers? I think that's certainly a key to any positive working relationship."

"That's not _quite_ what I thought, Ms. Moore."

"I know _exactly_ what you thought, Mr. Heyman. It's what small men like you always think when you're bested by someone you deem unworthy, especially when that someone is a woman. Well, I _am_ worthy. I _deserve_ to be here. I earned it, and not with any part of my anatomy except for my brain. If you have any other ridiculous accusations to throw at me, make sure you handle it backstage so you can stop wasting these people's time."

A small cheer rang through the arena. It wasn't massive, but it was still heartening.

"In fact," I said over the polite applause, "because you've wasted their time, I'm going to make up for it with one _hell_ of a main event. The team of Dolph Ziggler and Sheamus – my supposed compatriots – will face two of _your_ compatriots, Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins."

The cheer was a bit louder this time. Good. I'd pulled Ambrose and Rollins out of thin air, honestly, and I'd picked them for the simple fact that they weren't Roman Reigns – who was gigantic and had been killing it lately – and that they'd had a little bit of tension between them the last few weeks. I hoped that would work towards Sheamus and Dolph's advantage.

I didn't realize that it would go a long way towards making me another dangerous enemy.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of my work day after my blow-up at my boss's boss was...bizarre.

Everyone avoided me, as if I was a death row inmate and my execution was rapidly approaching. They didn't want to be associated with the stench of imminent death.

I suppose I understood. But after being a pariah all day, I was very glad to go home that night.

I put on my fuzzy pajamas and ordered a pizza. I drank a bottle of wine. Then, when eight o'clock rolled around, I turned on Monday Night Raw.

And everything changed.

In my buzzed state, I thought maybe I'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. So I pinched myself – hard.

I realized then that I was awake, and all the crap I'd fantasy booked for Stephanie McMahon this morning was on my television this evening.

It was a little easier to walk into work the next day. Even if I did get fired, I'd had an influence on an episode of one of my favorite shows. Who else could say that?

Besides, I thought I might enjoy being unemployed right now. For a minute. Drink some wine, listen to some sad songs, just generally be miserable without wearing pants...it could work for me.

Things didn't shake out that way, as you can probably guess.

It took until the ratings came out on Thursday for me to get called into my boss's office unexpectedly.

This time, I was confronted not only by Ms. McMahon, but also her husband – known in the TV end of our business as Triple H, known in our office as Mr. Levesque.

I didn't know whether they were going to fire me or promote me. As it turned out, it was the latter. Kind of.

They asked me to 'consult' for a few weeks – attending Raw, making matches behind the scenes. I didn't know it at the time, but it was a total dress rehearsal for what was to come. They wanted to see me think on my feet, interact with the talents, and make the product successful.

It meant leaving Stamford for a little bit. But right then, I needed that – so I agreed.

I didn't realize that it meant I wouldn't be back at that little cubicle ever again. Looking back now, even with everything that happened...I still think I'd go for it. I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I didn't go for it.

But the decisions I made after that...maybe I would have done some of those differently.

Like putting Dean Ambrose in that match on the night Paul Heyman pissed me off. That I would've changed. Or at least letting it slip to Sheamus – who caught up with me backstage beforehand – how upset I was about the whole thing.

Maybe it should've been different before that. Maybe I never should have accepted the invitation to drink with my employees the night before.

I can't change any of that now. The point is, I made all of those decisions.

So when an over-zealous Sheamus snapped Ambrose's arm like a dry twig in their match that night, he knew exactly who to blame.

And things would never, ever be the same for me again.


	6. Chapter 6

" _Bitch_ ," Ambrose spat at me. " _Fucking bitch_."

Thankfully, two paramedics were holding him down on the stretcher. I actually felt bad for him, which was why I'd come out to check on him. He was obviously in pain, teeth clenched as he clutched his arm against his chest.

It still wasn't stopping him from trying to pull his ass up off the stretcher and rearrange my face. I elected to take a few steps back, an action that didn't go unnoticed.

"So you're a coward too? Can't even deal with...consequences of your actions? Christ."

"I just put you in a match," I replied, trying desperately to keep myself calm in spite of my racing heart and sick stomach. "You need to go to the hospital. You're in a lot of pain. We'll talk about it when you're a bit less..."

"Fucking broken?" He supplied, his voice a low growl. "Thanks to you, you mean."

I decided to ignore him. Another bad decision, I would realize later.

"Get moving," I said to the medics, just wanting this writhing mess of a man out of here. "Can't you see he's in pain?"

Ambrose actually barked a laugh before cursing at me a bit more heartily as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance.

I spent the rest of the night in a haze of anxiety. It was the first time in my short tenure that a competitor had been injured...and he quite obviously blamed me for it.

As much as I hated it, I slunk up to the man who had tried to embarrass the piss out of me earlier tonight and asked how his protege had fared in the hospital.

To say that his response was chilly would be a vast understatement, but I found out what I needed to know – arm was broken in two places. He'd be out at least a couple months.

I handled it as best I could, managing to not burst into tears until I was alone in my office.

The majority of it was the stress of the situation. I felt guilty that one of the performers was injured, sure. But I was also terrified that I'd get fired for it. I was overwhelmed by the amount of work and all of the pressure that had fallen on me. And I was still grieving – however much I tried to deny it to myself – the loss of a partnership I'd thought was forever.

It all just fell down on me and left me a blubbering, snotty mess.

So, of course, my heartfelt-but-silent sobs were interrupted by a knock on my door. Just the thing I needed at that moment.

I tried to clean myself up, but I know I still looked rough when I opened the door. Wade froze in front of me, obviously unsure how to proceed with his request or statement now that his GM was a gremlin.

He was nothing if not smooth, and he recovered quickly. The conversation that took place in my doorway was brief, but relatively natural.

Then, as he should have been wrapping up, he stepped into my office – forcing me back a few steps. He closed the door gently behind him.

"Ambrose?" He guessed.

I wanted to open my mouth and respond, but the kindness in his voice made my lips tremble and tears fill my eyes again. I just nodded miserably.

He sighed and put his hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to offer you some unsolicited advice."

I gave a small smile. "Please do," I managed to say.

"You need to be tough. If these guys see that they can rattle you so easily, they're going to walk all over you. Don't let them. Be smarter than they are. Be tougher than they are, more brutal. It's the only way a little thing like you will earn any respect. Otherwise...it's only going to get harder." He paused and looked at me intently. "Do you think you can do that?"

I took a deep breath. "I know I can."

"So go do it," he prodded, although his tone was far from harsh. "There are a lot of people – myself included – who want to see you succeed. There are far more that want to see you fail. Don't let them win."

I swallowed hard, but still smiled. "Thanks for the pep talk."

He nodded, his lips slightly pursed. "Any time." He made his way back toward my door, pausing after he'd opened it.

"Liz?"

"Yeah?"

He smiled widely at me. "Give 'em hell."

He backed out the door, and I was amazed to find that I felt a little better. This wasn't something I couldn't handle. This wasn't beyond my scope of ability. I'd been chosen to do this job for a reason, and I couldn't go running scared because one asshole got himself hurt and blamed me.

My shoulders straightened up. I wiped my cheeks roughly and took a breath.

Give 'em hell. I thought I would go do just that.


	7. Chapter 7

It was quiet the next few days, thank God. No shows that aired live or even a taping, only house shows – and those were already set and ready to go. I was able to go home for a few days and shore myself up for the firestorm that was coming my way.

Only one problem – it didn't.

I walked into work on Monday ready for battle. Apparently I was the only one in the war, though. It was quiet. I would realize later that this meant more trouble than I could possibly understand; however at that time ignorance was bliss.

I ran a good show. I politely declined the offer for drinks and went back to the hotel. Smackdown was much of the same, and I went home at the end of my shortened week astounded at the ease of week two.

So when I walked in for week three, I was woefully unprepared for the shitstorm that awaited.

The first thing I was confronted with was a grim-faced Dean Ambrose with his arm in a sling. His lips pulled back into a half-smile, half-snarl when he first saw me.

I didn't know what to do for a brief moment before I remembered Wade's words to me. I narrowed my eyes, looked away, and continued walking forward with my head held high.

I went about my usual pre-show routine – can I call it that after only two weeks? – and was feeling pretty at ease as we counted down the minutes until we went on at eight.

Unfortunately, that new-found confidence vanished about five minutes into the show, when my first match was interrupted by Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns storming the ring and laying waste to the competitors already in there.

"Oh what the hell?!" I muttered, still trying to keep my cool. I was being watched intently by the backstage crew to see how I would handle this unexpected interruption. I yanked my headphones off and began walking towards the curtain, pausing only briefly when I heard Heyman's voice, amplified by the microphone – he must have walked to the ring while I was away from the screens.

No big deal. I'd verbally bitch-slapped him once; I could do it again.

This time, though, he seemed to be waiting for me.

"And here she is, ladies and gentlemen! Elizabeth Moore, the most inept General Manager that has ever set foot backstage at a WWE event. Please, Ms. Moore, come and join us – we certainly have a lot to discuss."

I was halfway down the ramp at that point. The rest of the walk seemed to take an eternity, and even worse was crossing the ring under the watchful eyes of Heyman, Rollins, and Reigns to take a microphone.

"I take it that you couldn't find my office to discuss these matters with me privately?" I snapped. I was getting real tired of his shit.

"Ms. Moore, you know as well as I do that I believe the WWE Universe has every right to know -"

"Stop your ridiculous pandering and get to the point. How are you going to try to drag me through the mud this week?"

"Drag you through the mud? Ms. Moore, please! I would never do such a thing, in spite of your gross lack of competence. I'm out here to advocate for my friend and client, Dean Ambrose – you recall him, do you not? The man whose arm was broken by the big red-headed Irish idiot, likely on your orders?"

I could feel my brow furrowing. He really thought...what in the hell?

"You are sorely mistaken, Mr. Heyman. I put Mr. Ambrose in a match – you know, the thing that earns him his paycheck? His arm was broken during competition, which I believe is a risk that existed long before I became GM and, further, a risk that Mr. Ambrose was well aware of."

"Then why would you come to me and ask after Mr. Ambrose following his injury?"

"You're sincerely curious as to why I would be concerned for the welfare of one of my competitors?" I was incredulous. "Let's try several things – common courtesy, concern for my employee's well-being, concern for the company's bottom line...take your pick; which one sounds best to you?"

"Guilt!" Heyman exploded. "Guilt sounds best to me, Ms. Moore. Just further proof that you don't have the stomach for this business."

"Wait wait wait," I shook my head, finally catching on. "You're telling me that if I had ordered an attack on Mr. Ambrose, as you are accusing me of doing, you wouldn't be out here berating me? It's my common human decency that offends you? I knew you were a slimeball; I guess I just didn't realize how depraved you were. Rest assured, I'll no longer be asking after Mr. Ambrose. And since you two," I rounded on Regins and Rollins, "are so willing to fight, let me see who I can find and you boys can have at it."

I dropped the mic, annoyed, and stormed to the back. Wade and Sheamus were already waiting, followed closely behind by Cesaro and Ziggler. I had to suppress a smile.

"Go on out, boys."

"Which of us?" Cesaro asked.

"All of you. And give 'em Hell."

I caught the shadow of Wade's smile before he whipped away, looking particularly pleased at the idea of pummeling the two hapless idiots in the ring.

I couldn't say that the idea particularly upset me, either.


	8. Chapter 8

There were no broken bones that night, although I did notice Reigns sporting a particularly nasty shiner and Rollins limping along in the back. Both of them summarily ignored me; which suited me just fine. In truth, I was more at fault for their injuries than Ambrose's – but I couldn't quite muster the energy to give a flying fuck after the way Heyman had tried to corner me in the ring tonight.

I knew what he was trying to do – undermine me in front of the audience, to show me as weak and cowardly and stupid. What I didn't know yet was just how far he would go, and that was an unsettling realization.

Wade had been right. I couldn't show any kind of compassion. That would only serve to reinforce the image Heyman was trying to present. I had to punish this little faction, and I had to find a way to do it swiftly and with the appropriate harshness.

I spent the night racking my brains, trying hard to come up with something. Nada.

I drove to the hotel that night still feebly circling several entirely infeasible ideas – where would I even _get_ a rocket launcher? - and finally forced myself to give up around one in the morning to fall into a fitful sleep.

That's why the summons at seven am was particularly irritating, but I didn't dare ignore it – Mr. Levesque was calling.

There's no way the dining room of a Hilton hotel could be intimidating. Even their continental breakfast was quite nice and not at all threatening. However, when you're trying to pick apart a pastry across from your gigantic boss while your sworn enemy sits next to you...well, that situation tended to make even a cherry danish look menacing.

"Tell her to call off her goons," Heyman spat.

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in the chair, the pastry temporarily forgotten as I crossed my arms over my chest. "I don't have any _goons_ , you moron. They're employees, they're not mine, and you call _your_ goons off."

"Stop talking about goons," Mr. Levesque shook his head. "This isn't a 1930's gangster movie, kids. This is your livelihood on the line. What the hell is happening?"

Heyman and I both began speaking at once. By virtue of being an annoying asshole, his voice won out.

"...completely unqualified, and she's getting people hurt! She can't keep control of the show –"

"That's rich, considering that you're the one trying to take it from me!"

"ENOUGH."

I closed my mouth immediately. Even Heyman shut up, which certainly spoke to the severity of the situation.

"I don't care how you resolve it – just resolve it. The show can't keep running like this; it's chaos. Liz is our choice to run things, Paul. Get over it or don't let the door hit you on the way out." He turned towards me. "And you...take control of your show. I don't care how. This reflects horribly on you, and it's making us sincerely question your leadership abilities. Turn it around."

He left. The cherry danish didn't look menacing any longer; it looked like failure.

"I hate your guts," I muttered to Heyman.

"Excuse me?"

"I said that this is all nuts," I lied. Common sense had briefly prevailed. "What exactly is your issue with me, Paul? Help me out here."

He eyed me intently for a minute before answering. To my deep shock, it sounded like a genuine answer. "You haven't earned it."

"You're not letting me earn it."

He shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. You're some office stooge one minute, then you get hot-shotted up here, beyond everyone who has an intimate knowledge of the business. Who the hell even are you? What gives you the right to take the job?"

I studied him. "The fact that I reached up and took it. You could've done the same exact thing that I did. You could've had the stones to tell them the product was shit, and you didn't."

He nodded. "I can respect that – don't look at me like that, I can – in fact, I do. But all the same, we need to find out what you're worth. You can't expect to walk through this unscathed."

I snorted an approximation of laughter. "Who said anything about me being unscathed?"

"You think feeling bad about Dean's broken arm is the worst of it? No, no. The worst is yet to come. I've measured you and seen your weaknesses. Do you even know what they are? Do you have any idea how I can exploit them? Once I'm done with you, it'll be a miracle if you even want to watch WWE programming again, let alone get these lofty ideas about running the show."

I hesitated, entirely unsure what to say. The man was admitting that it wasn't a lack of respect – not entirely – and that I'd done something right by speaking my mind. All the same, he was still bent on destroying me. I couldn't understand it.

"I suppose we'll see soon enough," I finally answered.

"Do yourself a favor, Liz. Leave before this gets bad for you."

I shook my head. "I won't. That's just not in my DNA. Whatever weaknesses you claim to see, they're all tempered by the fact that I'm not a quitter." I stood up. "We're done here. If you want to discuss anything further, you know where to find me."

"That's the problem, you know," he said casually as I started to walk away. I stopped and turned around, ready to humor him.

"You won't walk away. You won't quit. Even when it's in your best interest to do so. You'll drag yourself down kicking and screaming, and by the time you're ready to walk away from your failed venture it will be way too late. It'll wreck you so much more than if you had just been smart and left in the first place."

I was stunned. Those words stung me on a hugely personal level, and I think he could see that in my face.

"Next time," he said, standing himself, "I'd do a heavy self-evaluation before messing with a man like me."

He patted me on the shoulder in a patronizing way and walked away, leaving me to wonder just how he'd known all this...and what else he might be keeping under his hat.


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of the week was quiet.

I could guess that meant that Heyman was giving me a chance to 'do the right thing' and resign.

I thought about it. He had rattled me pretty badly, and I wondered if maybe I should just drop it and go back to my cubicle farm and my numbers.

That shook me out of it. The numbers had sucked. The numbers were terrible. The company had been drowning, and they had put me at the helm to steer it out of disaster.

Heyman was right; I couldn't walk away. Whether it was my fatal flaw or not remained to be seen, I supposed.

So after a long, stressful week of mental gymnastics, I walked in to the arena the following Monday afternoon with my stomach tied in knots.

It didn't help that the first person I saw was Dean Ambrose, who smiled as he saw me approach. Just what I needed today.

"Lizzy," he greeted me, a false level of warmth in his voice. "I was so hoping that you would show up today."

"This is where I work," I replied, putting a toothy smile on my face. "Not exactly a stretch that I'd be here."

"Oh but it is, you see, because I know Paul warned you away. I know he tried to be nice and tell you to get out before it got worse." He took a few steps toward me, that insincere smile still stretching across his lips. "I am _so_ glad that you didn't listen."

I forced myself to roll my eyes, even as my stomach gave another unpleasant jolt. "I'm shaking in my shoes. Truly. Now don't you have somewhere else to go be a creep?"

He actually chuckled at that. "Sure, Lizzy. I'll get out of your hair." He reached out and lightly tugged on one of the curls hanging beside my face. "But I'll be seeing you soon."

"Don't touch me," I spat, trying to keep my temper in check and failing. "And don't call me Lizzy. I'm your boss. Remember that."

"Whatever you say," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. He began to walk, taking a moment to pause a few steps past me. "Lizzy."

I just shook my head and let him keep walking. I had neither the time nor the energy for that idiot and his ridiculous attempts to wind me up.

I'd lost sight of what was important the last few weeks. I needed to make sure the show was exciting and engaging; not worry about Paul Heyman and whatever he was going to try to do to undermine me. I'd put together a spectacular card for tonight, if I could say so myself, and I was determined that nothing was going to ruin it.

It all went smoothly for the first hour. The guys were working their asses off, and the crowd was loving every second. I started to relax.

So, of course, that's right about the time Brock Lesnar's music hit.

Heyman didn't have a word to say. He just pointed at the ring – at _my_ ring – and Lesnar ran in and laid waste to the competitors in my carefully-crafted tag match. Then stood there smiling as Heyman joined him in the middle of the broken bodies.

He didn't grab a microphone. He simply stood there, hands folded in front of him. It took me a minute, but I realized what was happening with horrifying clarity.

They were waiting for me.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a little bit like what I imagined walking into your execution would be like.

I knew that I was going to get my ass handed to me – I already had, in fact. But I still had to walk out there with my head held high and my spine stiff, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the hardest fucking thing I'd ever had to do – to be brave in the face of certain destruction.

I stepped into the ring and was proud for a brief moment – I was barely trembling at all.

"If you wanted to speak to me," I started, "you knew exactly where my office was."

"Brock Lesnar is a man of few words, Ms. Moore," Heyman retorted in his nasally voice. "Brock Lesnar is a man of action."

"But you certainly seem to be a man of many words, Mr. Heyman," I snapped. "And I doubt that Brock Lesnar gives a rat's ass about what I'm doing here, except as it pertains to you and your ridiculous vendetta against me."

Now that my head remained on my shoulders a whopping fifteen seconds into my encounter with the most terrifying man alive, I was getting pissed off.

"So tell me, what on Earth have I done to offend you this time? Did I belch in your presence and not excuse myself?"

He smiled his smug, irritating smile. "Oh Ms. Moore, just the same as always – being an incompetent bimbo who doesn't deserve a job that belongs to me."

I nodded. "I expected as much. The same tired old argument from the same tired old man. Here's what's going to happen, Paul. You are going to get the hell out of my ring. You're going to take Mr. Lesnar with you. This is going to happen in the next ten seconds, or I will fire your ass so fast your fat ass will be out the door before your conniving head knows what happened. Am I clear?"

Brock Lesnar stepped between me and Heyman, and I nearly wet my pants. Only Heyman's stupid face, grinning with glee behind Brock's enormous arm, propelled me forward. I hated this dick.

I looked up at Brock. "And you. Don't think I won't fire your ass and sue the ever-loving Hell out of you if you put a finger on me. Get out of my fucking ring, or face the consequences."

He took a step towards me. It took everything I had not to back away.

"Ten seconds, gentleman. Clock is ticking. Or would you like to be absolutely moronic and assault a woman on live television? It would make my case infinitely easier, I must admit."

Brock stood there for a moment longer, and I tensed my body, hoping that wherever he punched me didn't do serious lasting damage.

Then, holy fucking hell, he actually stepped aside. He kept his beady eyes on me, but he moved away from me. Thank fucking Christ, the Virgin Mary, God, Yahweh, all the saints and prophets. I wasn't going to die today.

Heyman smiled at me again. I wanted to punch him so badly it actually physically hurt. "This isn't over, Ms. Moore. Not by a long shot."

"No," I replied, "I'm not stupid enough to think it is. But get out of my ring right now, or I will end it."

He dropped the mic and walked away. I made sure to look after them, insuring that they were in fact leaving. Once they had gone through the curtain to the backstage area, I cautiously followed.

I stopped in the control room. "Send the next guys out," I said. "I need to take care of this."

I found Heyman and Lesnar with their other cronies, CM Punk and The Shield. I ignored them all as I walked up to the group.

"You're done for the night. You can leave my arena now."

Heyman raised an eyebrow. "I'm the advocate for –"

"CM Punk," I finished firmly. "And Brock Lesnar. Both of whom have the night off. You have no business here and need to be off the premises immediately."

"That's some bullshit," Punk snapped, but to my surprise Heyman put a hand on his chest.

"We'll go," he said, keeping his eyes on me. "But we will be back next Monday."

"As you should, seeing as this is your place of employment. For now. But for tonight, you are dismissed."

I spun on my heel and walked away, trying to ignore the smirk on Ambrose's face.

My first stop was the ladies' room, where I can freely admit I finally began to shake as I relieved myself from the stored-up urine that had threatened to escape in the ring. I quickly made my way to my office, determined not to let anyone see me in that state.

Which of course meant that as I went to close my door, Ambrose stuck his foot out to stop me.

I reluctantly pulled it back towards me. "Something on your mind, Dean?"

He grinned. "You know, you've got some balls on you. I like that."

"I am so thrilled," I said dryly. "Do you have a specific question or concern that I need to address? Because I have plenty to do at the moment without listening to you relive my confrontation with Misters Heyman and Lesnar."

"Oh I have questions, Lizzy," he said, stepping into my office. "I have so many questions. But I have this funny feeling that you'll answer them all for me in time."

I had no idea what to say to such a bizarre statement. "Are you on crack?" I finally elected to blurt out.

"Not anymore," he replied casually enough to give me pause. "My turn. Where did such a small, delicate little thing like you develop such a backbone?"

"Dealing with assholes like you," I replied with the most insincere smile I could muster. "Are you going to go now?"

"No." He reached out suddenly and plucked my hand away from my side, holding it for a second before I even realized what was happening. I yanked away from him, too stunned to give him a retort.

He chuckled as he took one step closer to me. I was already so unnerved that I backed away instinctually.

"You can say you're big and bad, you can even act it – but you're shaking, Lizzy. Did the big, bad man scare you?" He stepped towards me again, and I backed up – but my office was by no stretch huge, and my back hit the wall quickly, and he moved as close as he possibly could.

"You should be scared of Brock," he said, reaching down and toying with the buttons on my shirt. "But you know what? You should be more scared of me."

"And why is that?" I asked through a dry throat.

He looked up into my eyes and after an agonizing moment he smiled. "Because Brock is dumb. I'm not. And I can hurt you just as badly as he can. Do you believe that?"

I studied him for a minute. "Yes," I admitted. "Yes I do."

"Then you're smarter than you look, thank God."

He dropped his hands away from me and, after a few moments of silence, backed away. "I like you, Lizzy. It's always interesting to see what you're going to do next. But soon you're going to run out of moves, sweetheart. And when you do, I'll be waiting. Just remember that. Everything you do...it doesn't matter. I'm going to be the one to destroy you in the end."

"We'll see," I replied, regaining some of my composure. "I might surprise you."

He grinned again, dimples forming on his cheeks. "I hope you do, sweetheart. I hope you do."

He began to make his way out, pausing at my door to turn back and blow me a kiss. "See you soon, Lizzy."

He slammed the door behind him, and I sank to the floor. What the fuck had just happened? I was both baffled and frightened by his words – this undercurrent of admiration tempered with his desire to 'destroy' me was utterly ridiculous.

I couldn't dwell on it for long, however, because there was another knock at my door. I forced myself up and forced myself to get it together before I answered it, greeted by the sight of one of the control room guys.

I smiled at him. "Just putting out a few fires," I said, stepping out into the backstage area. "Let's get back to work."


	11. Chapter 11

I walked out of the arena that night completely drained and more than a little defeated.

I probably should have known that Heyman would pull Brock's card. On one level, it was a good sign – it meant that he was getting desperate. On the other hand...it meant that I was now contending with Brock Lesnar.

On top of all that – as if 'that' wasn't enough – Ambrose was acting like a goddamn weirdo. More than usual, I mean.

My head spun around and around the problems, coming up with half-thought solutions that weren't entirely feasible. It wore me out, and by the time I walked into the hotel I was ready to collapse onto the bed and sleep for a week.

I had just closed the door to my room behind me and kicked off my heels when there was a knock at my door. I almost didn't answer it, but the knock came again, more persistent this time, and followed by an unfamiliar voice claiming to be room service.

I peered through the peephole and saw what appeared to be a hotel employee standing there with a tray. I cautiously opened the door a crack and explained that he probably had the wrong room. Impatiently, he verified my room number and name before practically throwing the tray at me and stalking away, leaving me with protests dying on my lips.

I brought the tray in and set it on the stand, completely perplexed on top of being exhausted. I pulled the lid off the tray to reveal a slice of cheesecake and a small bottle of white wine.

"What the hell?" I muttered. Not that I was displeased by the miraculous arrival of cheesecake, but still...it was very strange.

I lifted the plate to inspect it a little more closely, and a slip of paper caught my attention – a handwritten note.

"A sweet end to a bitter day," I read. "Keep giving 'em Hell. From – A Friend."

I smiled in spite of myself, and in spite of every moment that had led up until this one. I would have to thank Wade when I saw him next.

Now knowing that neither the cheesecake nor the wine were likely to be poisoned, I practically inhaled both before falling back into the bed and passing out.

I woke up the next morning with my eye makeup smeared all over my face and the pillow and a mouth that tasted like old sweat socks...and I still had no idea what to do about Lesnar or Ambrose.

I could remedy at least part of this situation with a shower and a toothbrush. Sadly, no brilliant ideas on how to handle the rest came to me while I was in the shower. I guess that meant I was actually going to have to put some real work into finding a solution, seeing as no bolt of lightning was hitting me over the head with an answer.

I elected to put it out of my mind for today. Running through every possible scenario in my head not only was completely useless, but it was giving me one hell of a headache. Time to give it a rest.

The Smackdown taping that evening was, as it tended to be, uneventful. I managed to corner Wade and thank him, with great sincerity, for the sweet gesture the night before. His face lit up in a smile as he told me it was no trouble at all, and that he was glad he'd made my night more enjoyable. My stomach did an entirely pleasant somersault and I found an excuse to rush away.

Not good.

I now had another thing to try not to think about, with all of these thoughts ping-ponging off of each other and feeding into the state of chaos in my brain.

I needed a goddamn break from myself. Which is why I was relieved to stay late and be the last one to leave the arena. No questions, no conversation – just me walking in the relative stillness of the night, getting in my car, and driving to my hotel.

When I finally put the car in park, I took a minute to just sit. I could already feel some of the stress sliding away, knowing that I had almost a full week before I had to think about all of this again.

Sadly, it wasn't meant to be – I was waylaid nearly the minute I walked into the lobby, and by the person I wanted to see the least...Mr. Dean Ambrose.

"Lizzy," he smiled. "I've been waiting a long time."

"Do you expect an apology?" I snapped, my foul mood climbing back up on to me so fast it was as if it had never left.

He hesitated a minute. "You look like you could use a drink."

I didn't answer, electing to simply glower at him. After a moment he stood up, letting his considerable height – 6'4", my brain helpfully reminded me – tower over my less impressive 5'7". It immediately made me feel uncomfortable.

"Come on," he said. "One drink. I'll buy."

He began walking towards the hotel bar, not waiting for my answer. Against my better judgment, I actually followed. I wasn't sure if it was a death wish or mere curiosity, but after the last two days I supposed it didn't really matter.

He gestured towards a booth in the corner, away from the few patrons in here at this late hour, while he went up to the bar and grabbed two beers.

This was one scenario I hadn't planned for, and I realized that it was probably useless to try – I couldn't figure this guy out, and I would likely go insane trying. There was no point in trying to anticipate; I just needed to wait and see what he'd do next.

"Tough couple of days, Lizzy?" He asked as he slid into the seat across from me, shaking me out of my stupor.

"No more than usual," I replied, taking the beer he pushed across the table. "What do you want?"

"I need an alternative motive?"

"I don't even know your first motive, Ambrose."

He grinned. "I wanted to know how you managed to get your job."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean the GM job? Or the accounting job?"

"GM job. Accounting job isn't that hard to figure out."

"I mouthed off to Stephanie McMahon," I admitted. "How did you get here?"

He shrugged. "Dropped out of high school. Went to wrestling school. Worked my ass off. What did you mouth off about?"

"How terrible the product was. Why did you drop out of high school?" I was getting the hang of his rapid-fire questioning, and I knew how to fire them back at him by now.

"Didn't really see a need to finish. I already knew what I wanted to be, and a high school education didn't fit in with that. Why did you mouth off about how terrible the product was?"

"I was frustrated. I hated seeing all the bullshit they were putting on TV. How did your parents feel about you dropping out?"

"Dad wasn't around. Mom was coked out of her mind. Needless to say, I didn't feel I needed their opinion on the matter. How long had you been frustrated?"

I laughed, taking a sip of my beer. "A year? Maybe more?"

"So why did you decide to do it then?"

I hesitated, an action that didn't go unnoticed. "None of your business," I finally elected to say.

He shook his head. "That's not how this game works, Lizzy."

I tapped my fingers against the table. Nobody else knew this, and I wasn't sure I wanted Ambrose to know this. But it was the game he wanted to play, and I had a question I wanted answered.

"I had to throw my boyfriend out the night before, and I was in a bad mood. Why does Heyman keep interfering in my show?"

"He wants to drive you out, obviously. Why'd you throw your boyfriend out?"

"He cheated," I said flatly. "What do I do about Heyman?"

"Loaded question. I'd quit. How long were you together?"

"Three years. I'm not gonna quit."

"I know. You should. But I'm kind of glad you're sticking around."

We both fell silent for a minute. Half of my beer was already gone.

"How did you know he was cheating?"

I felt exhausted again. This conversation was adding another layer to the ping-ponging madness in my head. I didn't want to think about this.

"I caught him. Forgave him. Caught him again. Gave him the option to end it. Caught him lying. Threw him out."

"Forgave him, huh? That was dumb of you."

"Yes it was."

"That's one of the things I don't get about you. You seem smart. But you do some really dumb things."

"Like having drinks with you and playing your twisted version of twenty questions?"

"Yeah, like that." He leaned forward. "You have no idea what I'm doing, do you?"

I managed a small smile. "I'm not that dumb. You're gathering intel. I'm pretty sure you'll go back and tell Paul everything we talked about. I just don't care."

He leaned back. "Why don't you care?"

I shook my head. "Because today, I realized that maybe you guys were right. Maybe I should just drop off the face of the Earth and let this fucking place burn. What does it really matter?"

He stared at me for a minute. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," I lied, picking up my beer. "No job is worth this shit, no matter how much I might love the company and love wrestling. I haven't been home in weeks. I'm constantly waiting for the next knife to be driven into my back. Heyman's probably right; I'm not cut out for this."

His eyes narrowed as he continued studying me. I tried to hold his gaze as steady as I could, noting his fingers drum against the table.

"You can't be so nice," he said after a minute. "You want to deal with Heyman? You need to stoop to his level."

"Why would you tell me that?"

He drained the rest of his beer and stood up. "I told you – it's always interesting to see what you're going to do next. Wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you quit on me. Then I'd have to find someone new to play with...and we're just getting started."

"So stoop to his level, huh? Disrupt the disrupter."

He nodded. "Now you're getting somewhere. Go get some sleep. You look like Hell."

He turned and walked away, leaving me baffled once again – but at least this time I had something to show for it.


	12. Chapter 12

I spent the next few days in my apartment in Stamford 'dialing for dollars' – except in this case, I was dialing for muscle.

Heyman had a bunch of guys willing to disrupt my show? I needed a bunch of guys willing to take them out when they did. And, slowly but surely, I was starting to get that crew together.

"I was hoping you were calling me for a different reason," Wade said when I called him. "It's a bit late to be talking about work."

I glanced at the clock – 11 pm. Shit. I'd lost track of time again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even notice," I admitted. "I promise, no booty call ulterior motive – just work."

"Well that's disappointing."

I laughed, but felt a hot jolt run through me. "It would be a bit of a haul for you for a little lovin' – you guys are in Kansas City, if I'm not mistaken."

"Psh, short plane ride. But since you're not asking..."

I was smiling in spite of myself. "No, I'm calling for a different reason. I think I know how to deal with Heyman, and I was hoping you'd be willing to help me out."

"How exactly could I help?" It wasn't hard to notice the hesitation in his voice; hesitation that seemed only to grow as I explained myself. For the first time in all of my phone calls, I felt stupid.

"Where did you get this idea?"

I stumbled for the first time in my perfect pitch, completely thrown off-guard. "Well, um...Dean Ambrose? Indirectly," I added quickly.

He was quiet for a few moments that seemed to take forever. "And you don't believe this might be a trap of some kind?"

"The thought has crossed my mind," I admitted. "But I also can't sit by and do nothing."

"I agree completely. But do you think this is the right thing to do?"

I sighed. "It's the only thing I can think _to_ do at this point." I was getting tired of this conversation. "If you don't want to be a part of it, I understand completely." I bit my tongue to keep from adding – 'just say no and stop wasting my time.'

"I want to help, Liz. I just don't know if this is the right thing."

"That's fine," I replied, trying very hard to keep the bitterness and disappointment out of my voice. "I'd appreciate if you didn't mention this conversation to anyone else, though."

"It never happened," he agreed. "Good luck. I really hope it works."

"Thanks. Me too."

I hung up and elected to call it quits for tonight. I'd done enough, and this last conversation had taken a bit of the wind out of my sails.

I was getting ready for bed when my phone started buzzing. I didn't even look at the number; I just picked it up.

"Liz Moore," I answered.

"You know," a familiar, gravelly voice started, "being on the road is much more boring when you're not around."

I shook my head. "So you decide to call me at midnight and see how creative I can get cursing you out?"

Ambrose chuckled. "Something like that. Were you sleeping, Lizzy?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You sound a little touchy."

"It's midnight and you're calling me to play around while I'm trying to get ready to go to sleep after a long day. Of course I'm touchy."

"Why was it a long day?"

"It just was."

He paused for a minute. "You're not nearly as much fun on the phone. How disappointing."

"I'd apologize, but you would know I was lying." My curiosity got the better of me. "What are you doing calling me this late, anyway? Don't you have a few bars to go shut down?"

"Maybe in a little while. Go have a few beers, troll around for some desperate chick to bring home near closing time. That's the usual MO."

"Sounds like a blast," I said dryly. "Much more fun than talking to me."

"Don't underestimate yourself, now. That bar floozy life is fun for a little while, but it gets old, you know."

"Maybe it's time to take up a more fulfilling hobby. Knitting, perhaps."

He laughed. "Maybe I'll look into that. Or maybe I'll find something else to occupy my time. I would say that you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about it, but..."

"But what?"

"But you're _interesting_ , Lizzy. You're not boring. You're not the same old thing. You probably should be a little bit worried."

"And why is that? Because you're going to be the one to destroy me in the end?" I couldn't help but put a mocking tone in my voice. He was starting to irritate me.

"Don't be a bitch," he snapped, "and don't underestimate me. I've been nice to you. Don't give me a reason to be nasty."

"You've been _nice_ to me? Are you fucking kidding?"

"No, I'm not _fucking kidding_. If you had one ounce of sense you'd see that I've been _nothing but nice_ to you. Although that damn sure is gonna change now."

I feigned a yawn into the phone. "Yeah, ok. I'll keep an eye out for my bed being short-sheeted or the ever-so-clever and cruel 'kick me' sign on my back."

He laughed, although it definitely wasn't as good-natured as it was before. "You do that, Liz. You act like I'm a joke, and don't take me seriously. See how well that works out for you."

He hung up. I must've really pissed him off this time.

I couldn't muster the energy the be particularly upset by another weird encounter with Ambrose; not when I'd already had some many of them.

I crawled into bed, but before I did I saved the number he'd called from to my contacts.

I had a feeling he'd be calling again...and in spite of my lack of real concern about his agitation tonight, it didn't mean that I'd want to pick up next time.


	13. Chapter 13

To say that I was keyed up the following Monday would be an incredible understatement.

For the first time, I was actually looking forward to seeing what Heyman and his merry band of assholes would get up to tonight – because I finally had a plan. Now I just needed to wait to implement it...which turned out to be surprisingly agonizing.

The moment arrived about forty-five minutes into the show. One smug-looking Heyman gestured a pissed-off looking Shield down to the ring during my carefully-constructed US Title match. I barely had to turn around and say the word before Sheamus, Cesaro, Daniel Bryan, and Dolph Ziggler were running past me and hitting the ring.

It worked. The Shield, confused, bounced out of the ring quickly and retreated to Heyman while my guys stood tall in the ring.

I had to suppress a smile at the looks of bewilderment and anger on all of their faces. I had the fuckers now.

Standing at the top of the ramp, I gestured to the ref to re-start the match. My guys jumped out of the ring, but stayed around the perimeter, watching Heyman and company carefully.

"Gentlemen," I called down the ramp. "I believe you've worn out your welcome. Why don't you head to the back until it's time for your match?"

Heyman stood still for a moment, contemplating his course of action before gesturing the Shield guys ahead of him.

Reigns and Rollins filed past me without so much as a glance, but Ambrose made sure to take his time ambling by me, making prolonged, uncomfortable eye contact. Heyman was the last to walk by, his gaze guarded – but I could tell his brain was hard at work beneath the calm exterior.

They tried again a little later, and were again repelled – this time by seven guys. My idea was gaining traction, and it wasn't hard to see that it was pissing Heyman and company off mightily.

Most of my nerves had dissipated by the time the Shield guys were up for their match – a six-man tag against Sheamus, Cesaro, and Ziggler. The guys on both sides were much more aggressive than usual, but something about tonight must have thrown the Shield off – they actually lost.

I took a minute at the end of the night to just take a breath and sit in quiet satisfaction. Holy shit. I'd done it.

Then, of course, everyone wanted to celebrate – and I was more than happy to join in. After all, I owed them at least a round for everything.

I was sitting among the group, trying hard to keep sipping the same beer so that things didn't get too rowdy, when Ambrose, Reigns, and Rollins walked in to the bar.

Surprisingly, there wasn't any trouble – they walked right by us and settled at a table in the corner. It wasn't hard to notice that Ambrose was glaring at me from across the room. I tried to ignore him, but when I turned my eyes his way he mockingly tipped his beer in my direction. I turned my lips up briefly, inclined my head in a nod of acknowledgment, and went back to trying to ignore him.

I was just about to call it a night when Wade made his way over, a drink in his hand and a sheepish expression on his face.

"Can I borrow you for a few minutes?"

"Sure," I said, surprised. I said my farewells and thanks to everyone at the table again and then picked up to move to a more quiet corner with Wade.

"What's up?" I asked as we settled in.

"I wanted to apologize. You were right about the course of action you took, and I shouldn't have doubted you."

I smiled, taking a sip of my drink. "You're allowed to doubt me. In fact, I encourage that instead of blind faith. I make mistakes, just like everyone else. It all could've gone sideways – in fact, it still might."

"If it does, you'll think of something. I know you've been given a lot of grief, but you really are good at this job. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

I felt like that was a dangerous path to go down, believing that I was infallible, but I decided that he was just trying to be nice after the other night and let it go.

We moved on to other topics, and before long my drink was empty.

"I should call it a night," I sighed, glancing down at my cell phone. Two forty-five in the morning already, and I would have to be on the road by nine.

Wade put the last of his drink away. "Let me walk you back, at least. It's late."

I stifled a yawn. "It is that. Thanks; I'd be happy for the company."

We walked back in companionable silence through a town that was just starting to shut down. There was a bite of chill in the air, and after noticing my feeble attempts to keep myself warm Wade threw a large arm around my shoulders. I leaned in to him, grateful for the warmth.

We made it back to the hotel lobby about ten minutes later. I went to move away, but Wade kept his arm firmly around my shoulder. "Door-to-door service, love," he said. "Which room are you in?"

"You don't have to –"

"No, but I'm going to," he replied in a tone that allowed no arguments.

"Well in that case, three fifty-six."

He steered me towards the elevator and we made our way to my door.

"Here we are, safe and sound," I said, feeling a small twinge of regret as his arm fell away from me. "Thanks for making sure I got back safe."

"Any time. Thanks for accepting my apology."

I shook my head. "You really had nothing to apologize for, you know."

"I'm pretty sure I do."

I raised an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

He bent down and kissed me then, kissed me hard. His hands found my hips and yanked me towards him, pressing my body into his.

I kissed him back without conscious thought, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said, pulling back from me slightly before slamming his lips against mine again, his hand creeping up to lightly cup my breast. I moaned in his mouth, moving even closer to him.

"Where's your key?" He asked against my mouth. I handed him the small plastic rectangle, laughing a bit as he used one hand to pick me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, continuing to kiss him while he unlocked the door and brought us both inside.

We fell onto the bed, pulling clothing off as best we could. His mouth found my neck, the rough stubble on his face scraping against my skin. I pressed my hips up against him, relishing the primal growl that arose from his throat.

He continued kissing his way down, his hands fumbling at the button of my jeans. He had just popped them open when I had a horrifying moment of clarity.

"Wait," I said, my voice sounding strangled and breathless. "Wait, wait, wait..."

He stopped at the level of my navel and looked up at me questioningly.

"We can't," I said with sincere regret. "I'm your boss; we can't do this."

He froze for a moment before letting out a mighty sigh. He rested his head on my abdomen, and I resisted the urge to run my hands through his hair.

"You're sure?" He asked, running his fingers lightly down my side. His breath blew hot across my abdomen and I nearly changed my mind.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He sat up and began quietly pulling his shirt back on. I had no idea what to say – it was obvious that he was upset, and so was I.

I touched his arm, and he turned his eyes to me. "I'm sorry."

One corner of his mouth raised up in a half-smile. "Are you?"

I took a deep breath. "Trust me. I am _really_ sorry that I didn't have that brilliant idea after the fact."

He chuckled. "Glad I'm not the only one who will be going to bed frustrated."

"Definitely not."

He leaned forward and lightly kissed me again. "Promise me," he said in a low voice, "that if you ever decide you want out of this job..."

I smiled. "You're my first call."

"Small consolation."

I nodded. "I know. I am sorry."

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm being a petulant child. You have nothing to apologize for, except for having your dream job...and I won't let you apologize for that."

"Thank you." Impulsively, I leaned up and kissed him again.

"I should go," he murmured against my mouth. "Before we get too carried away."

I could sense the wisdom in his words, but goddamn I didn't want him to leave. Which is what made pulling back and nodding my agreement one of the hardest things I've done.

I walked him to the door and said goodnight, shutting and locking the door before I changed my mind and asked him to come back.

Knowing then what I know now...I probably should have asked him to come back. It would've saved me a lot of trouble.

But I didn't know. And so I went to bed that night frustrated, but believing that I finally had the upper hand in my battle against Heyman and company.

It wouldn't be long before I found out just how wrong I was.


	14. Chapter 14

I rolled in to Smackdown the next morning exhausted. The giant coffee I'd been slugging away at wasn't helping, and I knew that I was going to need to be sharp when really all I wanted was a nap.

I set up my makeshift office and tried to get to work as quickly as possible, hoping that I might actually catch a few hours of free time in the afternoon to lock the door and pass out.

It wasn't meant to be. For some God forsaken reason, Dean Ambrose blew into the arena seven hours early and decided to camp outside of my office. Normally I wouldn't let this bother me, but he decided to be as annoyingly loud and difficult as possible – chatting on his phone, singing, pacing back and forth in front of my door...the works.

It finally blew up when he began singing "Rape Me" quite loudly as I was on the phone with Mr. Levesque. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, but did rush me off the phone.

I hung up and finally stood up and went to the door.

"Would you please _shut up_?" I snapped.

"Oh, Lizzy! I didn't know you were here."

I gave him a look. "I'm sure you didn't, Dean. How about you go be obnoxious somewhere else, hmm?"

"Sure, sure. Of course. I know your boyfriend kept you up late last night."

It was impossible not to notice the heat in his voice. I raised my eyebrow. "No boyfriend, and you know that. It was a short swing back is all."

He took a few steps towards me and lowered his voice. "Don't fucking lie to me, Elizabeth. I saw you. I saw...his hands all over you. I saw you go into your room, clinging to him like a goddamn monkey."

"You didn't see all of it."

"I didn't need to," he snapped. "I saw enough."

I shook my head. "If you'd waited an additional five minutes, you would have seen him go right back out."

"How disappointing for you," he said dryly. "Maybe you should pick a real man next time."

"I'm telling you that nothing happened. Not that it's any of your business, actually. And how the hell did you see me anyway? Were you following me?" My brain was just starting to catch up to what he was saying.

He smiled. "I just wanted to get you alone to congratulate you. I didn't have the opportunity."

"Get me alone? That doesn't sound ominous at all. And what the hell would you like to congratulate me on?"

"On lying to me so that I would take pity on you and give you an idea on how to handle Heyman. I won't make that mistake again, trust me."

"I wouldn't trust you with anything anyway."

"Was all of it a lie?" He asked, and I found myself baffled again.

"What are you talking about?"

"The sob story about the boyfriend. How you got the job. Was all of it you just fucking with me?"

"Of course not," I said, surprised. "I only told you that I was thinking of quitting so you'd answer my question honestly. We both lied – or, at least, you were dancing around the truth. I did what I had to do."

He studied me for a minute, his eyes narrowed. "What was his name?"

"Michael," I answered, wondering why I was playing this game with him. "He was...is...a day trader in Manhattan. He split his time between there and my house in Stamford. He was about six-one, brown hair, blue eyes, strong jawline. He liked jazz. What else do you need to know?"

"Why the fuck would you date someone that _boring_?"

I couldn't help it; I laughed. "He wasn't boring."

"He sounds boring," Dean said doubtfully.

"Trust me; he wasn't. He was very interesting."

He stared at me for a few minutes, and just when I was about to ask what else he wanted from me he came out and told me.

"I want a match with Barrett tonight."

"Why?"

"I just do. I'd feel better if I could beat the snot out of him."

"Why?"

"What are you, a fucking toddler? Does it matter why?"

"I'm your fucking boss, and yes, it does."

He chewed his lower lip for a minute. "It doesn't matter why. I just do. Are you going to see him again?"

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Still too hung up on the jazz-loving stockbroker?"

"No," I replied, trying desperately to keep my patience. He was all over the place today, and it was starting to wear on my already-thin nerves. "I'm the boss. I can't date any of you guys. That's not right."

He studied me again. "Is that what you told him last night?"

"Yes."

"So why were you kissing him?"

"I told him after the kissing started. I got carried away for a few minutes is all."

"Been a long time, Lizzy? A little pent up?"

" _Definitely_ none of your business. Are you going to let me get some work done now?"

"Are you going to give me my match?"

"I'll see what I can do. That's all I can promise."

He ran his tongue over his teeth before extending his hand. "Shake on it."

Surprised, I took it – and he immediately pulled me close to him. "If I find out that you're lying to me," he said low in my ear, "there's gonna be hell to pay, sweetheart. You realize that?"

"What do you think I'm lying to you about?"

"Does it really matter?" He squeezed my hand tightly and let go suddenly, pulling away from me. "Match. Tonight. Let me know."

He walked away, leaving me bewildered as he so often did – and this time feeling an undercurrent of fear. He'd seen Wade and I. Whether he realized it or not – and my guess was that he did; he wasn't stupid – he had the power to get me out of here. The real question was why he wasn't deciding to use it yet.

I made two decisions in that moment. First, I was going to lock my door now and sleep a bit. Whatever was coming my way, I was going to need to be much more prepared and awake than I already was.

Second, whether Wade liked it or not, I was going to give Dean his match...and hope that nothing else came of it.


	15. Chapter 15

The night was surprisingly quiet – except for the part where Dean really did beat the snot out of Wade in their match.

I'd never seen him so... _ruthless_ , and it frightened me a little. It was especially concerning because I could sense that I was the reason behind his anger at Wade, and I didn't understand why. My guess was that he was jealous, of course, but I didn't get why he would be. He professed to find me interesting, but he also apparently thought I was a fucking bitch.

Maybe the reason I was so confused by him was that he was confused by me, I thought with a wry smile. The guy couldn't figure out if he wanted to kiss me or kill me. That was bound to make anyone act like a goddamn lunatic, and I had a feeling that it wouldn't take much to push Ambrose over that edge anyway.

I elected to keep my head down and run things from the back tonight for as long as I could. It actually worked pretty well, and I managed to avoid any further catastrophes until long after the taping was over.

I thought everyone had left. I was grabbing my last cup of coffee before the caterers broke everything down for the night and getting ready to pack up my laptop and finish some last-minute paperwork back in my hotel. As successful as the last couple of days had been, I was ready to go home for a little while and rest until I had to play this horrid game of chess again.

Of course, that meant that Ambrose was again waiting outside of my office. At least this time he wasn't asking me to rape him in song form.

I almost turned around and walked away before he saw me. But at the last minute, he lifted his head and our eyes met. He was already sporting one hell of a shiner under his left eye, a souvenir from his fight earlier in the night.

"What now?" I asked, trying hard to keep my voice neutral.

"Just wanted to say thanks for the match," he replied easily, pushing himself away from the wall beside my door. "I feel much better."

"I'm glad to hear it. Have a good night."

I tried to walk by him. It didn't work, because why would it? He put a hand out and stopped me.

"I still want to know why you were kissing him."

I rolled my eyes. "He kissed me first. It was reflex; I wasn't thinking."

"So why didn't you stop after the first one? Why did you bring him into your room?"

"You've never gotten carried away with someone?"

He was silent for a minute. "Hm. I see your point."

"I am _so_ glad," I snapped, my patience – which I was amazed had lasted this long – finally running out. "Is that all twenty questions now? Can I go home?"

I walked by him and began packing up my laptop. As I turned around to leave, I nearly ran into him.

There wasn't any time to think. He grabbed me and kissed me roughly, his hands holding my face against his. He held me there for an agonizingly long time before letting me go.

I was stunned...for a minute. Then I cocked my fist back and punched him in the jaw.

"Don't you _ever_ touch me like that again," I growled as he stumbled back a few steps.

He rubbed his jaw, and then miraculously started to laugh. "I just wanted to see if you'd let yourself get carried away again."

"Not with you. _Never_ with you. Do we understand each other?"

He glanced at me through a curtain of blonde hair. "Oh, I think I understand you just fine, darlin'. But I don't think you understand me. Not one bit."

"And I don't _want_ to understand you. Just leave me the fuck alone, for Christ's sake."

I pushed past him and began walking quickly towards the exit, hoping that he wasn't following me.

"You hit like a girl," he called after me.

I didn't even look back; I jabbed my middle finger up over my head and kept walking.


	16. Chapter 16

I expected Ambrose to keep harassing me throughout the week, but he was quiet for a change.

I didn't know if I should be worried or relieved. I settled for a little bit of both, and attempted to dive into my work to escape my worries. Survivor Series was rapidly approaching, and as one of our hallmark pay-per-views I knew it needed to be something special.

I had most of the card worked out, but I was hung up on the showcase match – the five-man elimination tag. The obvious answer to me was to put Heyman's crew – the Shield, CM Punk, and Brock Lesnar – up against five of my guys, but privately I wasn't sure that would work. I didn't think my guys could win; not unless I found a few more big-time guys to join up with mine. Punk and Lesnar, while vastly different from each other, were both incredibly dangerous...and the Shield had a way of making the numbers work in their favor, even when they were evenly matched. It would be dumb to overlook them.

I tried various combinations of teams, both mentally and on paper – my diagramming skills were rusty, I soon discovered – but gave it up as a bad cause after about three hours. I just couldn't find the right combination to make it work, and so I decided to set it aside for the time being – and perhaps permanently, if I couldn't get it to work in my favor.

Before I could blink, it was already time to hop on a plane and head to the location of that Monday's Raw in Salt Lake City.

The trouble started early that day, but not from the source I'd expected. Wade, who had admittedly been on my mind in various ways throughout the past week, waylaid me on my way to my office almost first thing that afternoon.

After exchanging some niceties, he got down to business.

"I want a rematch with Ambrose."

I tried to keep myself from heaving a mighty sigh. "Why?"

"He embarrassed me on Smackdown. I want a chance at redemption now that I'm better prepared."

I should've kept my mouth shut, but sometimes it ran before my brain really had time to process. "Is that the only reason?"

He gave me a devilish grin. "I wouldn't mind having the chance to give him another black eye so he has the matching set."

I tried to keep the smile off my face and failed. "I didn't hear that," I said solemnly, "so you have your match. Just...try not kill the guy, all right?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Harboring a bit of a soft spot, are we?"

I shook my head. "Definitely not. Just...well, if you must know, he saw us the other night."

His eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "Oh. That actually explains a lot. I was wondering what he was holding over your head. Why am I not supposed to kill him, now?"

"I don't have the bail money for you," I replied dryly. "Otherwise...I would be all about it."

He grinned. "I'll get as close as I can without getting arrested, then."

"I very much appreciate it." I hesitated a moment. "Just please be careful, too."

He was obviously fighting a smile. "Worried about me?"

"Don't get all puffed about it," I replied gruffly.

"Too late, love. But I will make sure that he gets the worse end of it. Promise." He reached out and lightly squeezed my shoulder, the most affectionate that either of us were willing to get. He glanced behind me. "I should go get ready. It looks like you have other business to attend to." He nodded, and with a heart full of regret I turned.

Paul Heyman was waiting at my office door. That couldn't be good.

I turned back to Wade. "Good luck tonight."

"You too," he said, making his way towards the door. I waited until he was well out of sight before inviting Heyman into my office.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Heyman?" I called. He looked a little deflated today; a little more contrite and subdued than usual. I didn't buy it for a second.

"I was wondering, Ms. Moore," he said as he crossed the threshold of my office and shut the door behind him, "if you and I could have a discussion about our little...issue."

 _Now_ he wanted to have a discussion? Oh fuck this guy. But I was nothing if not professional...most of the time.

"I don't believe I have anything further to add to any discussion Mr. Heyman, but you are welcome to bring any topic you wish to my attention."

Watching him smile like he'd sucked on a raw lemon was my only source of amusement. It might be wrong, but I wanted this dick to feel as insignificant as he'd made me feel.

"Fair enough, Ms. Moore. Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?"

"That would be ideal, Mr. Heyman. I do have a show to run this evening."

"You and I...have had our differences in the past. I've done some things during your tenure that were, perhaps, inadvisable. I'm willing to conceded that, and I am willing to work towards a solution that would be amenable for both of us."

I leaned back in my chair. "I'm listening."

He seemed encouraged. "You're still new to this business. There's no denying that." I nodded my agreement. He was right, after all. "In spite of that, you've done...rather well." Oh, admitting that hurt, that wasn't hard to see. "Imagine how you could blossom with a more experienced mentor in your corner."

I was quiet for a second. Was this motherfucker actually...? "Be blunt with me, Paul. What do you want?"

"Let's share responsibility. Make me the GM of Raw. You run Smackdown. We collaborate on all decisions. The two of us would be a formidable team."

I pretended to consider this for a whole twenty seconds. "No thanks."

He looked stunned. "But...I'm offering you..."

"The chance to play second fiddle to you after I've already run you into the ground. That's what you're offering me. I'm not interested." I leaned forward. "What I _am_ interested in is the fact that you're scared. That means I'm doing something right."

He narrowed his eyes. "You truly believe that I'm scared? Me? The man who controls not only The Shield, but also your world champion and the most terrifying beast the world has ever known?" He laughed, standing up. "You're more naïve than I realized," he said, making his way towards the door. I thought he was done, but he paused for a moment and had his final say:

"Ms. Moore, believe me when I say this – I was trying to be nice. I was offering you a way out of the grave you're digging yourself. I'm glad that you decided not to take my help. Now I get the pleasure of throwing that first shovel full of dirt and watching it rain down over you."


	17. Chapter 17

"So you decided to give your boyfriend a rematch?"

I closed my eyes before turning towards my office door to see Dean standing there, casually leaning against the doorjamb. "Not my boyfriend, and yes. I didn't think you'd mind."

He shook his head. "Not at all. It'll be nice to beat the shit out of him again."

I raised an eyebrow. "If you don't have a problem with it, why are you here?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing when you booked us tonight. As usual," he shoved himself away from the door frame, "you have no idea. But you'll see soon enough."

"Is that a threat?"

He grinned. "Is this where I say the usual tough guy 'it's a promise'? Of course it's a threat, Lizzy. I'm gonna kick your boyfriend's ass. Then I might come back here and see if you'll finally give me the time of day yet."

"Not gonna happen," I replied, trying to sound bored.

"We'll see, won't we?" He blew me a kiss and walked away.

I found myself foolishly hoping that since the hours before the show had been chaotic, the show itself would run smoothly.

It did. For the first hour. The second hour kicked off with Wade and Dean's rematch, and that's where it all went to hell.

I had expected vicious from both of them. They delivered. Then things got out of hand – Dean yanked a pair of brass knuckles out of his flak jacket and began pummeling Wade, earning him a DQ, of course. But...he didn't stop.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably, my suspicion confirmed, as Heyman strode down to the ring – accompanied by Punk, Lesnar, and the other members of the Shield.

"Oh no no no," I muttered, throwing down my headset. I ran into Cesaro and Sheamus, already rallying my other guys to go and make a stand. When I finally made my way out, a group of six behind me, Reigns and Rollins were blocking the ramp with Kendo sticks, backed up by Brock Lesnar, who was his own weapon.

In the ring, Punk held Wade up while Dean beat him and Heyman watched, microphone in hand.

"Ms. Moore! Such a pleasure to see you."

Dean stopped mid-punch and turned towards me, an expression of grim satisfaction on his face. Wade was on his knees, his torso slumped forward in Punk's grasp and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breathe during this reprieve. I could already see bruises forming on his torso.

"I knew," Heyman continued, "that this would get your attention. Please, join us." I took a few steps forward, and the guys behind me did as well – causing Reigns and Rollins to raise the Kendo sticks and Lesnar to take a menacing step forward.

"Ah ah – just you, Ms. Moore. Your gentleman, of course, can stay and observe – but you and only you are to step into this ring with us."

I needed to get to Wade, and if that was how it was going to be I would have to accept it. I turned around and stepped back towards my guys.

"Stay here," I said in a low voice. "At the first sign of trouble...more trouble," I corrected myself, "you hit that ring like there's no tomorrow, understand?" They all nodded. "And guys...thank you."

Cesaro clapped a hand on my shoulder, nodding gravely. I turned back towards Heyman and began walking before I lost my nerve. Reigns and Rollins lowered their weapons and Lesnar stepped to the side, a smirk on his face as I passed.

I glanced behind me and saw that they had closed ranks again. If I got into trouble, the guys wouldn't be able to get to me right away. But I didn't have time to think of that now; Heyman loomed ahead, and I needed to keep my focus on whatever the fuck he was doing now.

He sat on the ropes, gesturing me in. Ambrose and Punk loomed in the background, and I did all I could to not look in their direction. I think if I saw Ambrose's face up close I would lose the tenuous grasp I had on the anger roiling in my chest – and that would not be good, for either myself or Wade. I needed to keep it together.

I stood face-to-face with Heyman, waiting for him to speak.

"Do I have your attention now, Ms. Moore?"

"You certainly do," I replied in clipped tones. "The question is, what are you going to do with my full attention?"

He laughed. "Big words from a single woman in the middle of the most dangerous group of men the world has ever known."

I clenched and unclenched my fists. "I don't know, Mr. Heyman. I still think I could likely do at least a little bit of damage to the least dangerous man in the group."

"Oh Ms. Moore. I'm the _most_ dangerous man in the group. Perhaps not physically, of course, but look around you – the man that orchestrated this is standing right in front of you."

"Don't think for a moment that I'll forget that," I replied, my lips turning up in a snarl. "So now that I'm here, and your grand plan has worked – what do you want?"

"I want this little war to end, that's what I want. So because my attempts at appeasement were unsuccessful, I turn to another solution. Team Heyman. Team Moore. Survivor Series. Winner takes it _all_. What do you say?"

Oh son of a bitch. This was the match I'd been avoiding making because I didn't think we could win, and this was the match Heyman wanted – for my job.

"I say if you think for a fucking minute that I'd give in to your terroristic demands, you're much more stupid than anticipated."

Heyman sighed and turned towards Dean, who socked Wade hard in the stomach again. I could hear him coughing and retching behind me.

"Care to try a different answer?"

"No, I don't."

Dean hit him again. I turned towards him finally, my body vibrating with white hot rage. "If you hit him again, you're going to be suspended indefinitely. The bell rang, your match is over. Get the fuck out of this ring."

Dean studied me for a moment before lifting Wade's head off of his chest and punching him in the jaw. I took three steps towards him and stopped dead as he turned back to me.

"What are you gonna do, Lizzy?" He asked, raising to his full height. "What exactly do you think you're going to do?"

I wanted to punch him, but I knew that I needed to hold my temper – not for Wade's sake, but for the sake of my job.

He grinned. "Call security, sweetheart. Have them try to escort me out. See what happens then. See how many other people you're responsible for hurting after I'm done with them."

I knew then what I had to do. I hated it, but I knew what I had to do.

I squared my shoulders and turned away from Ambrose. I walked back to Heyman.

"No," I said simply before turning and walking out of the ring.

"You're making a huge mistake, Ms. Moore," Heyman warned behind me as I walked away. I could hear the sounds of the beating resuming behind me and I did everything I could to not look back. But I could see on the TitanTron in front of me – after each hit, Dean would pause and look to see if I was paying attention. When he saw that I wasn't, he'd hit Wade again, harder this time.

I kept walking, hating myself. I walked past Lesnar and Reigns and Rollins, and I stopped in the middle of my crew.

"Do it," I growled.

I paused only briefly to see my guys run over Reigns and Rollins and then walked to the back, the sounds of chaos fading away behind me.


	18. Chapter 18

I was already working on Ambrose's suspension paperwork when the first survivors began trickling to the back. Heyman's crew came in a group, which was surprisingly convenient for me.

"Out. All of you. Before I start handing out firings."

I didn't bother to wait for their reply, instead continuing back to the trainer's room. Wade was already there, on the table and being prodded by the doctor. I waited in the doorway with an increasing sense of unease until the doctor announced that he didn't think Wade had any broken bones, but that he was going to be even more sore in the morning.

I wish I could say I was relieved at that point, but I was worried about the apology I was going to have to make. 'Sorry I left you to get your ass kicked' didn't quite convey the depth of my hatred for that decision.

Thankfully, I was saved from the awkwardness of starting that particular conversation.

"Hey," Wade said, holding his hand out to me.

I stepped into the room and took his hand, lightly squeezing it. "I'm..."

He shook his head. "You did what you had to. I know that."

"Still," I said, embarrassed to feel my eyes welling up. "I wish it hadn't been you. I'm so sorry."

"We both know why it was me," he replied.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"At least it didn't work," he said carefully. "They know now that you don't really care for me."

I blinked a few times, shaking my head. "Nothing could be further from the truth. I hope that you know that. That was just..."

"Business," he finished for me. "I know. It's the nature of what we do. I expected to be dragged into it sooner or later."

I was glad at least one of us had expected that, but it sure as hell hadn't been me."I hated leaving you out there. I hated every second of it."

He didn't seem convinced, but squeezed my hand in acknowledgment.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked, desperate to make this right. "Or anything I can get you?"

He shook his head. "Just the rest of the night off to recover. ...And maybe no more matches with Ambrose for a bit."

I nodded. "Of course. If you need anything else in the meantime, please just say the word."

"Liz?" A voice broke in behind me. "We need you out here."

I turned back to Wade, who merely nodded. "Go on. I'll be fine."

I realized that he wasn't fine, of course, but I would need to address this later. My night was far from over.

I made it back to the central control area. "Did Heyman and his crew leave?" I barked as I put my headset back on.

"Everyone except Ambrose," one of the guys replied.

Of course everyone but Ambrose, because fuck that guy. I waited until the next match was underway and things were well in hand before leaving to go back to my office. I finished the paperwork and signed my name with a substantial amount of spiteful happiness before setting off to find Ambrose.

As usual, he wasn't hard to find – he was walking up to my door just as I walked out of it.

I didn't say anything; I just shoved the paperwork in his chest. "Get out of my sight," I growled.

"Lizzy, I –"

I held up my hand. "Don't. Just get the fuck out of this building, before I really lose my temper."

I walked away without waiting to see if he actually listened.

The rest of the show went smoothly, with my crew walking on eggshells around me. I felt half-bad about that, and thanked them all for a great show as they left.

I knew I should stay and take care of more paperwork, but I had something to sort out before I'd be able to focus.

I drove to the hotel and asked for Wade's room at the front desk. I rode the elevator up to the sixth floor and paused outside of room six-twelve, taking a deep breath before I finally raised my hand and knocked.

I heard him moving towards the door, and waited for a breathless moment while he hesitated in unlocking the door.

"Liz?" He asked. "Is everything all right?"

I shook my head. "No."

He opened the door completely. "What's wrong?"

"I...I just..." Tears were already running down my cheeks. "I was so fucking scared for you." His face softened. "I wanted to kill Ambrose. I wanted to launch myself at him and rip his face off. I wanted so desperately for him to stop, and I didn't know how to make him do it."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, trying to hold it together and keep myself from sobbing. "That was the hardest thing I've ever done. I understand that you're pissed off, and believe me – I don't blame you one bit. I'd be pissed myself. I just hope you know that it fucking killed me to leave you out there tonight."

He hesitated for a minute before stepping to the side. "Come in," he said, gesturing me past him. "It sounds like we have a lot to discuss."


	19. Chapter 19

I felt utterly ridiculous, sitting on Wade's bed sobbing my heart out – but that didn't mean I could stop.

He held me against his chest, stroking his hand back through my hair and murmuring soothing things while I cried.

It wasn't just about tonight, I realized soon. It was about everything since this whole thing had started.

I was crying for all of the fear and anxiety about taking a job I so wasn't qualified for; I was crying about having someone so blatantly hate me for that that he'd try to destroy me; I was crying about losing the relationship that had led me here.

In short, I was crying about the past six months of my life.

Needless to say...it took a while. Wade, to his credit, hung in there until the last of my small, hiccuping sobs had passed.

"Do you feel better?" He asked in a low voice when it was apparent that I had finished.

I considered the question for a moment. "I feel exhausted," I replied truthfully. I felt completely empty, in a very relaxing way. It was as if all of the tension and anger and anxiety had fled through my tears, and I felt soft and fresh for the first time in a very long time.

"Was that all about me?"

"No," I admitted. "It was about everything. But you are a big part of everything for me."

I could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips to my forehead. "I can't help you with everything, but I can help you sort at least some of this out. So why were you crying for me?"

"I hated leaving you out there. I hate that I want you in my life and I can't have you; not completely anyway."

"If it weren't for the job, what would I be to you?"

I smiled. "That's not just up to me, you know."

"Say it is."

I hesitated a minute. "I don't know if I'd be ready to jump into another relationship yet – I just got out of a very long one not too long ago, and it didn't end well. But I think I'd like to at least try with you."

His big hand came under my chin and brought my face up to his. He kissed me, his lips gentle against mine.

I had a brief thought that we shouldn't be doing this, and then I found that I just didn't care. Not after tonight, not after I'd had to watch him suffer for me.

"Liz," he said as he pulled away, "I would be whatever you wanted me to be. Do you realize that? I am in so much trouble here, because if you'd ask I would give without hesitation."

In that moment, that heartbreaking beautiful moment, I had a decision to make.

As I so often did, I made the wrong one.

I leaned up and kissed him again, wrapping my arms around his neck. I felt his arm tighten around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

It's hard to say how it happened, exactly. All I know is that before long we had fallen back on to the bed and were slowly losing articles of clothing.

Wade paused in the kissing to nuzzle his face between my bared breasts, eliciting a contented sigh from me as I pressed my hips against him. He wrapped an arm around my lower back and rolled on his back, pulling me on top of him.

I gasped as he pressed his hips up and I felt his erection through his jeans, and then immediately started moaning in pleasure as he took one of my nipples into his mouth and began to suck on it. He continued pumping his hips and I soon caught on, the two of us working into a frustrating, agonizing rhythm.

He pulled back and rested his head on the pillow, staring up at me as his hands found my hips and guided me.

"Are we going to keep going like this?" He asked, and it was hard not to hear the impatience in his voice.

I grinned. "You mean there are other things you'd like to do?"

"Oh yes," he breathed. "So many other things I'd like to do to you. But right now, I'd settle for being inside of you and see what happens from there."

"Well when you put it that way..." I bent down and kissed him again before rolling off of him and hastily yanking my panties off. In spite of the fact that Wade had more clothing on than I did, he was still undressed before I was and pulling me back on top of him.

He pulled my face down again and kissed me, his arm groping over on the nightstand for something. When he opened the drawer and I heard the familiar sound of a foil wrapper, I had a moment to be grateful that at least one of us wasn't so caught up that they weren't thinking.

While he worked on opening the condom, I reached down between us and began gently stroking him. It was an exercise in both excitement and a bit of fear, because he...was a bit more sizable than I was used to, and I wondered for a moment how long I would be sore after tonight.

Then I didn't have time to think. Wade gently moved my hand away and rolled the condom down with frightening efficiency before taking my hips and guiding me down on to him.

I knew that the best way to get back on the horse – so to speak – was to just go for it, and so I sunk completely down on to him.

"Oh God, Liz," he moaned, his hands gripping me tightly. Immediately, his hands relaxed. "Are you all right?"

I winced. "You're fucking huge," I blurted.

He laughed, pulling me back down to kiss him. "We can go as slow as you need, love," he murmured. That was reassuring, but the discomfort was already subsiding as I grew accustomed to his size – and I was ready to keep moving.

I did start slowly, just to be sure that I was all right, but before long the bed was creaking in a steady rhythm as I rode him.

To his credit, he didn't just lay there and let me do all the work. His hips pumped up in rhythm with mine, his hands on my breasts and his mouth on my neck.

"Liz," he murmured in my ear, his lips brushing against my ear lobe. "Liz, you feel amazing. I'm not still hurting you am I?"

"No," I assured him. "No, this feels fantastic."

"Good." He kissed me again, and one of his hands slid away from my breast. I felt the first touch of his fingers against my swollen clit and shuddered slightly before sitting up on him to offer him better access.

The combination of his fingers working against me and his cock lodged firmly inside of me brought me rapidly to the edge of orgasm; an edge he then threw me over by refusing to stop thrusting up inside of me while his free hand pinched and stroked my nipple.

"Wade," I half-gasped, half-moaned. I wasn't sure what I was going to ask him to do – to stop, to keep going – but it was all lost as a hot spasm shot through me, causing my body to tense completely before relaxing entirely.

I dropped down on to his chest, panting. He gave me a few seconds reprieve before carefully rolling me on to my back.

It was my turn to notice him wince as he climbed on top of me, and I realized that his arms and chest must be killing him.

"Are you sure you're ok to do this?"

He growled as he thrust completely back inside of me, making me whimper as the last tremors of my orgasm gave a strong pulse of pleasure.

"There is nothing in the world that could keep me from this," he murmured.

After that, we didn't speak – there were only guttural noises of pleasure and the occasional moan. I could feel him getting harder inside of me; swelling even further – but there was no pain this time, only a desperate need for him to keep moving.

I heard more than felt his orgasm – only a faint throbbing could be felt through the condom – but he was quite vocal about his pleasure, his arms trembling as he tried to hold himself up through the last violent thrusts.

He collapsed on top of me, a sweating, panting mess. After he had caught his breath, he kissed me over and over again, the warm, comforting bulk of his body still covering mine.

Eventually, he pulled away from me and went to go clean himself up. I was just sitting up to pull my clothes back on when he emerged from the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" He asked, surprised.

"I was going to go back to my room," I replied. "Unless you want me to stay?"

"Do you want to stay?"

"Desperately," I admitted. "I just don't want you to have to share the bed while you're injured."

He shook his head. "Woman, get naked. Get back under those blankets. When I come back from locking the door, I expect you to cuddle up next to me and fall asleep in my arms."

I fought back a smile as I followed his 'orders.' And when he came back to the bed, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders and my leg thrown over his, I pitched headfirst into the best sleep I'd had in a very long time.


	20. Chapter 20

"Liz," a voice murmured from far away. "Liz, it's time to wake up."

A warm hand was stroking up and down my bare back, and I snuggled closer into the warm body next to me.

"No," I murmured.

"Yes," Wade replied. "I'm sorry to say it, love, but it's almost checkout time."

I reluctantly peeled my eyes open to see a patient, smiling face staring at me. His smile grew wider as my eyes met his. "There she is." He bent and lightly kissed me. "How did you sleep?"

"The reluctance to wake up didn't tell you?" I teased. "I slept better than I have in ages. How are you feeling this morning?"

He shrugged. "Sore as hell, but I woke up next to you. There's very little that could bother me today." He bent and kissed me again, his hand resting on my bare hip.

I pulled back. "If it's as late as you say it is, I should get going."

He nodded. "I know," he said, pressing his lips against mine again.

"Then why are you making it so difficult for me to leave?"

He grinned mischievously. "I said I knew that you should get going, but that certainly doesn't mean I want you to go...or that I'll let you go that easily."

"You're nothing but trouble, you know that?"

"You seem to like trouble."

I laughed. "A little too much," I admitted, kissing him again before I rolled out of the bed and began to get dressed.

He leaned over and kissed my bare shoulder. "Am I going to see you later? Outside of work, that is."

"I could be persuaded," I replied, leaning back and kissing him.

"And what would I have to do to persuade you?" He murmured close to my ear, nipping my earlobe with his teeth.

"That's a good start."

"Yeah?" He tilted my head back and kissed me again, much less innocently than the last few times. "How about that?"

"If you keep that up, I'm going to take off the little clothing I have on and climb back into bed with you."

He laughed. "Then I'll just leave you with that, and hopefully it's enough to remind you of why you want to see me tonight."

"I don't think you need to be worried about me forgetting why I want to see you again," I replied, smiling. "I'm pretty sure I'll remember for a good long while."

He grinned. "I hope so."

I was moving slowly as I got dressed, feeling a deep ache between my thighs. It didn't bother me in the slightest – in fact, it made me feel even more content.

I kissed Wade one last time before making my way out and back down to my room. In spite of the late hour, the hallways were quiet. I could feel myself smiling as I walked, the trouble from the previous night far from my mind.

So when I turned the corner and saw Dean Ambrose sitting in front of my door, head against the wall, eyes closed, and legs extending straight out into the hallway, it all slammed back down on me harder than it probably should have.

I didn't have much of a choice; I had to go and get my bags packed. Feeling the weight of the world settling back on my shoulders, I walked up to him.

He turned his head as he heard me approach, his expression flat. He stood when I was a few feet from him.

"You were with him much longer than five minutes this time, Lizzy."

"Are you going to tattle on me to Heyman again?"

He shook his head. "No need."

We were silent for a few moments. "What do you want?" I finally asked, taking a few more steps towards him. "Why are you here?"

He stared at me for a minute, his jaw working back and forth.

"If there isn't anything else – besides admitting that you're a creep and you've been watching me – then just go away."

He shook his head. "I'm not going away, Elizabeth. Haven't you figured that out by now?" He moved closer to me and dropped his head so that he was speaking close to my ear. "You reek of sweat and sex," he said in a low, disgusted voice. "I hope he was worth the misery that's going to come down on your head."

I turned and met his eyes. "Get me fired, Ambrose. Fine. Then this little game of yours is over."

He grinned. "Who said _anything_ about getting you fired, sweetheart? _I_ don't have a problem with you being the GM."

"Then what, exactly, is your problem?"

He stared at me for a minute. "Was he any good?" He asked instead of answering me. "Did he make you tingle in all the right places?"

"Yes, he did," I snapped. "Do you want to hear how?"

His lips twitched in a faint sneer and his face became a little more pale. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Yeah, I am. And I bet you'll hear me screaming his name from across the hotel next time." I put a hand on his chest and lightly pushed him away from me. He didn't move immediately, but after a minute he did step back.

"I hope he's worth it, Lizzy. I hope to God he's worth it."

He walked away finally, fists clenched against his sides.

"He is," I called after him. "So do your worst, you asshole."

He paused at the end of the hall, his head twitching as if he wanted to look back at me. Instead, he brought his fists up and I heard his knuckles cracking before he continued on his way.


	21. Chapter 21

Only two real things of consequence happened at the Smackdown taping that night. The first was my discovery that my decision to suspend Ambrose indefinitely had been overruled. He only received one week, which meant that he'd be back on Raw the following week.

Somehow, I doubted that meant that I would have a break from him for the next six days.

The second was that Reigns, Rollins, and Punk decided to corner Sheamus in the back and beat the absolute hell out of him. He came out of that fight with a broken right wrist. The doctor thought he'd probably need surgery to put a pin in it.

Sheamus waved off my apologies with his good hand as we waited for the ambulance that was going to bring him to the local hospital, where an orthopedist was already waiting.

"Knew from the start that it might happen. I just wish that it wasn't right now, as things were starting to heat up. I'm sorry I won't be here to help you."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about that. Just worry about getting better."

He nodded. "I will, and I'll try to be back soon. In the meantime, keep the rest of the guys close. It looks like they're trying to pick us off, one by one."

"It does indeed seem that way," I agreed. "I'll make sure I take care of it."

Sheamus grinned at me. "I have no doubt, lass. None at all."

The ambulance pulled up then. I made sure he was in safely and on his way before returning to the building.

The rest of the show ran just fine, and I was shortly on my way back to the hotel for the night. I thought furiously as I drove, trying to find a way to make all of this madness end. It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago I'd been happy. It had all evaporated in a matter of hours, and I was frustrated and angry once again.

Wade was waiting for me in the lobby. He took one look at my face before cautiously reaching for my hand. "Room service and naked cuddles?"

The first smile of several hours touched my lips. "As long as room service includes booze."

"We can make that happen," he agreed. "Come on, love."

I dropped my bags and fell back on the bed the minute we walked through the door. Wade sat beside me, bent down to kiss me, and then unceremoniously dismissed me to the shower while he ordered food for us.

I came out with my hair dripping, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe.

"Feeling better?" He asked from his position sprawled on the bed.

"Marginally," I admitted, sitting beside him. "My day really went to hell after I left you this morning."

He nodded. "I heard. Any word on Sheamus?"

"Two pins in his wrist. He should be back in about six weeks." I rubbed my forehead absently. "They're hunting you guys down."

"So it would appear."

"As if that wasn't bad enough," I added, reaching for one of the bottles of beer he'd ordered, "I had a visit from Mr. Ambrose this morning."

Wade raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what did he have to say?"

"Just that he knew I'd spent the night with you, and he hoped you were worth all of the misery. He also decided to get nasty and ask if you'd been any good in bed. I told him you were, and he'd probably hear me screaming your name tonight."

I glanced over at him and saw him trying hard not to laugh. "Oh shut up," I said, even though I was trying not to laugh myself. "I hate that he's being such a weirdo."

"It's obvious, isn't it? He's got a little crush on you."

I shook my head. "Well, hopefully he gets the hint now. I'm not available. Even if I was, I'm not interested." I turned towards him. "Nobody warned me that this job would be this way."

"Would you still have taken it?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I really don't know. I've never in my life felt so stressed out before. Any moment of happiness I have is fleeting, because the next disaster comes along and blows it to hell. I really don't know if it's worth it."

He reached out and lightly brushed some hair out of my face. "It's been a long day," he said. "It's been a very difficult day, from the sounds of things." I nodded my agreement. "The important thing, I think, is that no decisions need to be made tonight. Tonight you can relax again."

Grateful, I turned and bent down to kiss him. "Thank you."

"For what, love?"

"For being the bright spot in every day so far."

He smiled. "I'm just returning the favor."

I could feel a little of the day's tension melting away. I had no idea how he managed to have that effect on me, and at the moment I wasn't too inclined to question it – I was just grateful for it.

We settled in for the night, ate our room service and watched terrible television. We made love and I once again fell asleep nestled in the crook of his arm.

The morning came too quickly, and I was getting prepared to leave again all too soon.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" He asked, buttoning his shirt.

"Which thing? The one where I asked you not to stop or told you to go faster?"

He grinned. "I gathered you meant both of those things, based on your reaction. Unfortunately, I was thinking about earlier in the evening, where you don't know if you'd have taken the job if you knew what it would be like."

I took a deep breath while I considered it. "Honestly...even though I met you, and I am so happy for that...I think I would've passed if I'd known about all of the other things."

He nodded. "It's understandable, love. You could still just walk away, you know."

I laughed, a bit bitterly. "I don't think I can. I'm too far into it now to just quit. I need to see it through."

"Even if it wrecks your happiness?"

I smiled, standing up and walking over to him. "How could it ever do that?" I asked. "You're right here." I stood on my toes and kissed him.

"Careful," he teased in a low voice, "you'll give me a huge ego. I won't be able to walk through any doors because my head will be so swollen."

"I'd rather you have a tough time walking for other reasons."

"So fresh," he laughed, bending down to kiss me again. "Are you sure you need to go back to Stamford?"

I nodded. "I have way too much to catch up on. But I'll try to come back a few days early."

"I'd really like that. I'll miss you terribly, you know."

"Now I'll have a huge ego."

"Still, the fact remains. Now go on before I do something entirely un-manly and throw myself at your feet, begging you to stay."

"Well, we can't have that," I agreed, standing on my toes again to kiss him one last time. "Be safe. Call me tonight. I'll see you soon."

"I will. Wouldn't miss it for anything. You'd better."

I walked out of his room and out of the hotel feeling almost as good as I did yesterday morning, but that feeling was tempered by our discussion last night.

It was starting to hit me that I didn't want this job any longer. I didn't want to be on the hook for all of these injuries. I didn't want to play this game of human chess. But, as I'd told Wade, I realized that I was in too deep to stop now.

I had to see this through, one way or the other. Maybe it was time to accept Heyman's match and be done with it. It was a match I knew that I couldn't win anyway, and at least I'd go down fighting.

My phone beeped and interrupted these thoughts. I expected it to be Wade, but it was Ambrose.

'I didn't hear you screaming last night. Too bad. I'd been looking forward to it.'

I raised an eyebrow. This didn't sound like him.

'It would've been nice to imagine I was just about to choke the life out of you and the last words out of your mouth were screams begging your boyfriend to come save you.'

I felt a chill run down my spine.

'You are way out of line, Ambrose,' I replied.

'Oh Lizzy. I'd never be able to do it. It would hurt me much more than it would hurt you. You just made me so angry yesterday. I needed to work through it.'

'And have you done that?'

'Not yet. I'd still like to beat your boyfriend to a bloody mess while you watched, but I know that would make you upset. I don't want to make you upset.'

I shook my head. This was getting so bizarre. I had no idea how to handle him.

'Thank you,' I finally elected to say.

'You're welcome, sweetheart. Since I have the week off – thanks, by the way – what do you say I come to Stamford and we chat over dinner?'

'You're pushing your luck.'

'Just like you're pushing yours. I'm still pretty pissed off, Lizzy. I'm trying to be nice by wanting to talk to you instead of beating the shit out of your boyfriend. I'd accept that offer if I were you.'

I debated this for several minutes before I finally answered.

'Dean, I'm going to be straight with you. I'm exhausted. I am stressed out almost to my breaking point. I need a few days away from everybody. It's not personal.'

So that last bit was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

It took a few minutes for him to respond.

'I get that. Just promise me that you will make time for me soon. I think we have a lot to talk about.'

I readily agreed. I hadn't expected it to be that easy to dissuade him, and it worried me a little bit. Then I recalled Wade's words about a little crush – if he still thought he had any sort of chance with me, maybe he'd decided to be nice.

I just wondered how long it would last.


	22. Chapter 22

The phone wouldn't stop ringing.

Groaning, I reached out from under the covers and groped on the nightstand for my phone. I brought it up to my ear without opening my eyes.

"Liz Moore," I mumbled.

"Have you had enough time to decompress yet?" Dean asked.

"What time is it?"

"Five in the morning. It's been three days, you know."

"Last thing I knew it was only two," I grumbled. "So why are you calling me this early? Just to remind me that it's been three days?"

"No. I'm calling to tell you that I'm tired of waiting for you to call, so I'm here. The diner on Harvard Ave. Roll yourself out of bed and come see me."

He hung up. I tried to blink away the last bits of sleep before swinging my legs out of bed and stretching, yawning mightily.

There was no preparing for a meeting with Dean Ambrose, I realized as I stumbled into the shower. I never knew what he was going to do or what he wanted from me. I just had to fly in blind.

I thought briefly about texting Wade about my meet-up as I got dressed. I decided against it. I realized that this was probably foolish, just in case Ambrose decided to murder me. I never knew with that guy. But something in me decided that I wanted to keep it between Dean and I. Maybe I'd tell him after I got back, maybe not. I needed to handle this one alone.

His chosen meeting spot was only about ten minutes away from my place, and this early in the morning I made it in seven. He was still irritable when I arrived, but my guess was that he would've been irritable regardless.

I watched him for a few seconds before he noticed me – feet tapping, his hands clasped in front of his face. Then his eyes caught mine and he waved me over.

"Took you long enough," he grumbled as I slid into the seat across from him.

"You gave me so much advance notice, I can understand why you're upset," I replied dryly. "What do you want?"

"Eggs. You want pancakes. No coffee, though, you want to go back to bed when this is done."

"I'd like to go back to bed now, but yes, I will settle for going back once I'm through with you."

He grinned. "We could go to bed now, Lizzy. You just say the word."

I shot him a look. "So you called me to flirt with me over pancakes. Normally I'd be flattered, but seeing as it's still the wrong side of six in the morning why don't we just get to what you actually want?"

He raised his hands. "All right, fine. You said a couple of things the other day that I wanted to set you straight on, and I wanted to hear why you lied to me about seeing him again."

"I'm listening."

He leaned forward. "I never told Paul about your little makeout session. He only asked who we should start with. I told him we should start with him. That was it. Nobody else knows."

That woke me up. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think they needed to know, that's all. You told me it was a one-time thing." It was impossible not to notice the unspoken accusation there. "I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. That was dumb."

I shook my head. "You know, if you hadn't dragged him out in front of me and beaten the hell out of him I probably wouldn't have slept with him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Trying to make me jealous?"

"No. Trying not to have a mental breakdown. I like him," I admitted. "I like him a lot. But I would've been able to keep it professional if you hadn't hurt him like you did. I just wanted him to forgive me for the whole thing. That's why I even went up there that night. There wasn't any intention of staying."

"But you did."

"I did," I agreed. "And I could lie to you and say it was a mistake, but I'm not going to do that. I'm glad it happened."

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. "Why do you like him?"

I thought about it for a minute. "He's just my type, I guess."

"And what is your 'type,' besides boring?"

"What is it with you and this whole 'boring' thing? What, exactly, is your idea of an exciting guy?" I could feel myself getting heated. "Because I ran that whole gamut when I was young, and I gotta tell ya – boring is a hell of a lot better than some idiot who thinks he's a badass."

Dean shrugged. "You just don't seem the type to settle in with a dude who loves jazz."

"I'm an accountant. From Connecticut. What the hell else would I do?"

"Take over a wrestling show."

I nodded. "Fair point."

"So tell me, then. What is it about him?"

"He's smart. He's funny. He's sweet. And he's not exactly tough to look at, since you want this whole honesty thing."

Dean's lip curled up. "To each their own, I guess."

"What I can't understand is why it bothers you so much. Sure, you can spout off all this stuff about me lying to you and that I'm _interesting_ and you apparently take personal offense to the men I date...but why do you give a shit?"

He laughed. "You're not that dumb."

"So you have a weird little thing for me. Ok, fine. I get that. But...?" I trailed off, raising my hands in supplication. "Help me out. Why does it bother you so much?"

He was quiet for a minute. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to spout off some romance-novel line about how we're destined to be together and I'm just waiting in the wings until you realize it? That's not me. The truth is, Lizzy, I usually don't know if I want to fuck you senseless or drown you in a bathtub. Most of the days fall in the middle of those two extremes, and all I know is that I can't get you out of my head. One way or another, you've burrowed yourself in deep and I don't know how to get rid of you."

He glanced up at me through a curtain of blonde hair. "Was that what you wanted to hear?"

"No," I admitted, my throat suddenly dry. I'd known that he was a few cards short of a full deck, but Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ, this was beyond my pay grade.

He nodded. "I figured as much. But hey, honesty, right?" He leaned back in his seat. "The question now becomes what we're going to do about it."

I barely bit back a bitter laugh. "I don't intend to do anything other than what I have been doing. I'm going to keep going to work. I'm going to keep seeing Wade. I'm going to keep trying to avoid you."

He shook his head. "You have to know that it won't work forever."

"No, I imagine it won't. It'll all come to a head soon enough, and things will blow up – one way or another. But I can't sit and worry about where everything's going to fall." I hesitated a minute. "What are you going to do?"

He grinned. "Me? Well. I guess if you're going to just keep on keepin' on, as the case may be, so will I. I'll try not to beat the hell out of your boyfriend again, though. I don't want to give you another excuse, after all."

It took me a minute to get to it, but once I did I was pissed. "You mean to tell me that you dragged me down here this early to tell me that nothing's going to change?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he said, picking up his cup of coffee.

"You're unbelievable," I replied, standing up. "I'm going back to bed."

He chuckled. "Just remember, sweetheart, you're the one who made this decision – you're the one who said everything remains the same. I'm just following your script. For now."

I shot him a dirty look, and he smiled at me. "You should get home and get to bed. I have a feeling that you're going to need as much sleep as you can get these next few weeks. Drive safe, darlin'. I'll be seeing you soon."


	23. Chapter 23

I had just pulled the covers back up over my head when my doorbell rang.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I growled. I thought about it for less than half a second before I decided that whoever it was – and I had a nasty feeling that I knew who – could wait until I was awake for the day.

Dean was nothing if not persistent, however, and by the time my doorbell had been ringing for three minutes straight I was flinging the door open.

"What?" I snapped.

He stepped towards me, put his hands on my hips, and bent down to kiss me. I tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip and pulled me into his body. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away, an exercise in futility to be sure – but he got the hint and pulled his face away from mine.

"I came all the way out here," he said. "The least you could do is give me one little kiss."

"You came all the way out here, dragged me out of bed at five in the morning, then followed me back to my house to try and get into bed with me. There is no 'least I could do' here."

He grinned, but didn't drop his hands from my hips. "You came out to meet me. You came to answer the door. You're not moving away now. Admit it, Lizzy...there's some small part of you that wants me just as bad as I want you."

I shot him a look. "Dean, go home."

"You're not denying it. Come on, sweetheart. Just one kiss. That's all. No one has to know."

I hesitated a second. "One kiss and you'll leave me the hell alone?"

"For the rest of the day, at least."

I was exhausted enough that this sounded like a good idea. "Fine," I grumbled.

He bent down and paused a few inches from my lips. "Make sure it's a good one, Lizzy. I'd hate to have to keep trying until we got it right."

I rolled my eyes, but when he leaned forward I didn't shove him away – I kissed him back. He was cautious at first, but after realizing that I wasn't going to pull back he pulled me even closer to him and deepened the kiss, his tongue darting into my mouth. One of his hands slid off of my back and came up to grip my hair. He yanked my head back and moved his mouth away from mine, running his tongue along the curve of my neck, his stubble lightly scraping the delicate skin.

My physical response outstripped my mental response, and I let out a soft moan before I could realize what a terrible idea that was. Dean, seemingly encouraged, took a few steps forward and shut the door behind him with his foot.

He turned us and pressed me up against the wall, pinning me against his body so that I couldn't escape. At that moment, I didn't necessarily want to escape – he was sucking on my neck, one hand gripping my breast tightly, my nipple pressed against his palm.

I'm not entirely sure how long I would've let him continue, but it became a moot point – he tried to slide his hand into my pants, and a moment of panic set in.

"Ok," I said, pulling back, breathless. "You had your kiss. You can go now."

He froze, then looked down at me, incredulous. "What?"

"Go home, Dean."

He blinked a few times, looking as if he was trying to clear his head. "But..."

"You just wanted a kiss," I said firmly, starting to squirm away from him. "You got that."

"And then some," he agreed, his arm coming up to stop my progress. "You enjoyed that, didn't you? I know I did," he bent down and slammed his lips against mine again, but this time I didn't kiss him back.

He pulled away and laughed bitterly. "All right, fine. You're not ready to admit it yet. As long as you know the truth, and I know the truth – I turned you on. I turned you on so much that I bet you crawl back into that little bed and have to take care of yourself before you can do anything else."

I had no idea what to say to him, because he had hit a little too close to the truth – I probably would've jumped into bed with him this morning, and I didn't understand why. Sure, he'd seemed to know just how to kiss me – but it was Dean Ambrose, the guy I considered an utter creep.

"Just let me finish what we started, Lizzy," he murmured close to my ear, flicking his tongue against my earlobe. "Let me bend you over right here and give us both a little satisfaction. I know you want it." He took my hand and guided it to his crotch. He was hard, and seemed to get harder under my hand. "And I definitely want it."

"Would you leave me alone if I said yes?"

He grinned. "No. You know that."

"I do," I agreed, pulling my hand away from him. "So I mean it, Dean. Go home. You got what you wanted."

He shook his head. "Not yet. But I will. Because I think, sweetheart – I really think – that I've started to burrow into your head just like you've burrowed into mine. I think you'll come running to me soon enough. Just don't take too long, Lizzy." He kissed my forehead. "I might make you wait if you do that, and that's something neither of us wants."

To my immense surprise, he actually turned around and left. I stood still until I heard the sound of a car starting up in my driveway and pulling away. I glanced out the window to make sure he was gone before I locked the door and shakily made my way back to bed.


	24. Chapter 24

"Oh Christ," Wade groaned, lifting his head just enough to kiss me before burying his face in my neck again. "I am so glad you came back early."

I laughed, wrapping my arms around him. "Me too." I was; after the other day, I had just needed some fantastic sex with a man I actually liked. Hopping on a plane this morning had been an easy decision.

He kissed me again before rolling away from me. While he cleaned up, I stretched and then curled up. I felt warm, relaxed, and content – a feeling that only multiplied when Wade crawled back into bed and pulled me close.

I was dozing, listening to his heart beat.

"Are you still awake?" He murmured, stroking his hand down my arm. I gave a non-committal murmur, snuggling closer to him. I felt more than heard him chuckle. "All right. We'll talk in the morning."

I dove head-first into blissful sleep, only to be awake three hours later with my face pressed down into the pillow as Wade rammed into me from behind.

This wasn't as sweet as it usually was; it was absolutely about both of chasing the most intense orgasms we could have.

"Harder," I begged. "Oh God, please..."

He obliged me, bringing his hand beneath me to stroke my clit. I buried my face in the pillow to muffle my scream, vaguely hearing Wade growl in deep satisfaction as he had his own orgasm.

We stayed still for a long moment before my legs couldn't hold me up any longer and I fell down on the bed. He soon followed suit, resting on his side behind me and throwing an arm over my midsection.

"I have no idea," he said in a low voice, "what's gotten into you...but I like it."

I laughed, covering his hand with my own. My thoughts briefly flicked to that frustrating encounter with Dean before I shoved it away.

Wade brushed my hair back from my face and lightly kissed my neck. "How are you feeling now, love?"

"Perfect," I replied honestly. All of the tension had bled out of my body.

"Can I ask a sticky question?"

I hesitated. "Do you have to?"

"No," he said. "I don't have to, of course."

The room was silent for a few seconds before I sighed. "Now I'm curious. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well. I wanted to ask what we're doing."

I snuggled back into him while I contemplated my answer. "Do you want the sarcastic answer of 'banging really hard' or an actual discussion?"

"A discussion would be ideal."

Realizing that this was somewhat serious, I rolled over to face him. I spent a moment running my hand back through his hair before I answered.

"I don't think we can really 'do' anything unless my job situation changes."

He nodded. "And have you given that any more thought?"

"I have," I admitted. "I'm going to give it one more week. I don't want to rush this decision and regret walking away, if that's what I decide to do."

I wrapped my arms around him. "Is that all right?"

"Of course it is," he replied immediately. "I guess my only question is...what happens if you decide to stay?"

I was quiet for a minute, and I think he knew the answer to that question already. But it still had to be said.

"If I decide to keep my job, we won't really be able to be together."

"So sex in secret?" It was the first time I'd heard a little annoyance in his voice about our situation.

"We obviously don't have to continue if you're uncomfortable."

He shook his head. "I think the problem is that I'm too comfortable, love. I want to be around you all the time, and I don't want to have to hide."

I sighed and rested my head against his chest. "I know," I replied. "I know this isn't easy, and I'm sorry that I can't make a decision."

He wrapped his arms around me. "It's not a problem. Really. I understand that the idea of giving up your career for a man you've been sleeping with for a week is a bit ridiculous."

"You're not just any man. You know that, right?"

He nodded. "I do."

"If only there was some way to keep my job and be with you. That would be the ideal."

"It would indeed. But we'll find a solution. I know it."

I nestled further into him. "I hope so," I replied. "I really hope so. Because I don't want to lose you."

He kissed the top of my head. "You won't. I'll be here for as long as you'll have me."


	25. Chapter 25

In spite of our warm and fuzzy conversation, the next morning was undeniably awkward. It wasn't hard to tell that Wade was unhappy; he had withdrawn and would barely look at me.

I debated internally before deciding to just give him the rest of the weekend. It was Sunday morning; I could rent a car and drive to our next city, settle in and get some work done in the hotel. Maybe that was what we both needed.

He seemed relieved when I was the one to bring up separating – almost like he had been thinking it, but didn't want to say it. Still, he gave me a lovely goodbye kiss and said he'd miss me. Maybe there was still some hope for us.

It wasn't a long drive to our next destination, but it was enough time for me to work my way into misery. Jesus Christ, nothing was working out the way I'd expected...and I had no idea how to fix it. I had no idea which direction I wanted to go.

On one hand, Wade was fantastic. I could really see the two of us making a long-term relationship, and, more importantly, being happy together. On the other hand...as stressful as it was, I still loved my job. It sure as hell beat sitting at a desk crunching numbers – even though I'd enjoyed that as well, and could go back to it if need be.

I was thinking myself in circles. I decided to check in to the hotel, take a bath, and take a nap. Maybe when I woke up things would miraculously make more sense. I doubted it, but it seemed like there was a slim chance it might work.

I was again just crawling into the bed when there was a knock at my door.

"The hell?" I muttered, throwing the covers back and making my way over to see who it was. Nobody knew I was here; I'd only called the hotel about an hour ago to change my reservation to include today. Maybe there was some kind of problem with that...although they probably would have told me at the desk, I thought.

"Oh you are _fucking kidding me_ ," I snapped as I looked through the peephole. Dean heard me and laughed.

I put the chain on the door and opened it just a crack. "Go away."

He shook his head. "You left in a rush this morning. I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm fine; I'm just about to go back to bed."

"Long night?" He asked, feigning innocence. "It sure sounded like it was, what with all the banging and moaning and you asking him to do you harder."

My mouth just about hit my chest. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, but he had a smug grin on his face. I wanted to punch it off. "Only room left happened to be right next to you and lover boy. You guys really don't value the experience of other guests, you know. Incredibly rude of you."

I moved to shut the door. That was enough of this bullshit for one day.

He stuck his foot in between the door and the jam. "I'm just kidding, Lizzy. You're in a mood today. Not what I expected, seeing as it sounded like you were enjoying yourself last night. I figured you'd be a little less keyed up."

"What were you even doing in our hotel?" I asked, finally getting some of my bearings back. "You're suspended."

"I still work for Paul," he replied calmly, "and he needed to see me. There was no point in going back home after, not when I needed to be here for Monday anyway."

He'd needed to see Paul. That could only mean that shit was about to somehow get worse for me. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Do me a favor," I said, reaching up to attempt to rub away the headache that was starting to blossom behind my eyes. "Leave me alone and let me get some sleep."

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Don't feel like it. Feel like chatting with you."

"I. Don't. Care," I replied through clenched teeth. "I'm serious; if you don't back the fuck up I'm going to call security and have you removed."

"You are no fun today. Did he misunderstand when you told him to fuck you harder? Is that why you're so sour; you didn't actually get to cum?"

I glared at him. "First, it's none of your goddamn business. Second, I'm not supposed to be fun; I'm your boss. Third...just go the fuck away, all right?"

He actually let me shut the door this time, and I turned the deadbolt for good measure before going back and flinging myself down on the bed.

That's when my room phone started ringing. I picked up cautiously, expecting it to be the front desk. I'd forgotten that there was a courtesy phone only about twenty feet from my door.

"You know what I would have told you?" Dean started without preamble after my shaky 'hello'. "I would've told you to shut your fucking mouth; that I'll fuck you any way I please. And then I would've taken it slow and gentle, just to piss you off, and when you told me again – because you would have, Lizzy, I know you by now – I would've taped your fucking mouth shut, pinned you down to that bed, and fucked you until you were a quivering mess. Do you have _any_ idea how frustrating it is to hear that limey bastard have you and not use you the way you're asking for? How absolutely fucking maddening it is to know that I could do everything you want – and a few things you didn't know you wanted – and be forced to listen to someone else fuck it up like that?"

I had no idea what to say to him.

"I'd make you beg for me," he said in a low voice when it became apparent that I wasn't going to say anything. "And you would love every single second of it. When are you going to stop playing this bullshit game with me and realize that?"

I thought about responding for a few seconds, and then carefully placed the phone back in its cradle. What good would it do? He wasn't going to be talked out of these ideas, and – truthfully – I'd given him more than I should have in the 'hope' department. Maybe if I stopped responding he'd realize that it wasn't going to happen. Maybe he'd back off if I just ignored him.

Maybe, I thought as I crawled under the covers, pigs would sprout wings and start flying. Maybe unicorns would reveal themselves to be real and bring about the world's greatest period of peace and prosperity.

Add to that list – maybe Dean Ambrose would leave me alone.

The other two seemed more likely.


	26. Chapter 26

'I'm sorry I got carried away. Have dinner with me.'

I stared at the text message, incredulous. This motherfucker could not be serious. This morning he'd been talking about making me beg him to fuck me, and now he was asking me out to dinner. Shit was backwards.

I closed my eyes, shook my head, and tossed my phone down on the bed before I went about getting ready. Tonight was a burrito and margarita kind of night, and thankfully we were in Austin, Texas – which meant I had a good chance of getting the best fucking burrito of my little Connecticut-dwelling life.

I threw on jeans and a t-shirt, yanked my hair up into a ponytail, and set out to quiz the front desk folks about burritos.

My life could sometimes be pretty awesome.

I received a recommendation for a place called Chupacabra Cantina at the front desk. Well all right then. I set off to walk the few blocks in the dry Texas heat, taking in all of the sights but never stopping – I had a burrito to eat.

I finally came across the place, a bustling hole-in-the-wall in a nice white brick building. It just looked like the kind of place that would have amazing food, and I started to get excited.

That excitement was quickly quashed.

"Here, let me," Dean said, stepping from behind me to open the door.

I clenched my fists and silently counted to ten. "What are you doing?"

"I invited you out to dinner. I kind of guessed you wouldn't accept, but since I'm here and you're here..."

I walked in without saying a word, hoping that there was a hostess stand where I could tell them I would be dining alone. No such luck – self-seating, and there was a single table left.

I almost turned around and walked out, abandoning my quest. But Dean grabbed my arm and stopped me, looking annoyed.

"I just want to apologize. Let me buy you a fucking taco. No ulterior motive."

"Burrito," I snapped. I picked the weirdest fucking things to be mad about.

He rolled his eyes. "Taco. Burrito. Whatever. Let me buy you some Mexican food."

I hesitated but finally agreed. "Fine. Just let me eat in peace and don't talk to me."

"Still in a mood, I see."

I elected to ignore him and made my way to the open table. Miraculously, he managed to make it through ordering and receiving our drinks and ordering our dinners before he decided to push me and start talking.

"So tell me, Lizzy. What's wrong?"

I looked at him over the rim of my margarita glass and shook my head. "No talking."

"You're a captive audience now, sweetheart. Hate to break it to you."

I put my glass down. It was already half gone. I thought about everything I could say to him – start discussing all of these messy, sticky things that I was entangled in – and decided that maybe it was better to stick to work.

"What is Heyman planning next?"

"That's not what's wrong."

"No, but I'm not going to talk about that."

"Boyfriend troubles?"

"For the last time. He's not my boyfriend."

"Just casually fucking a subordinate, then?"

I shook my head. "You really don't know when to just leave it the fuck alone, do you?"

He stared at me for a minute, his eyes narrowed. "You really _are_ upset about something."

I picked up my glass and took another sip. He was just going to keep pushing and pushing and pushing, and I didn't know how I was going to handle that.

He leaned back in his seat. "Paul isn't planning anything you're not aware of," he surprised me by saying. "You figured it out already. Keep going after your guys until it's just you. You won't be able to fight back, and you'll have to quit. If you accept the match at Survivor Series in the meantime – which I would, if I were you, before any more of your guys get hurt – then great. He thinks we'll be able to win it without a problem, and everything will work out like he wants it to."

"So he's backed me into one hell of a corner," I said. I'd kind of known that, but hearing it laid out by someone that wasn't me really drove the point home.

"Proverbial rock and hard place, Lizzy," he agreed. "I guess you just have to chose which hill you want to die on."

"How comforting," I replied dryly, looking around for our waitress. My drink was suddenly empty. "So is it just time to quit, then?"

Dean was silent for a few seconds, studying me. "I thought you didn't want to do that."

"I didn't, but Paul is very persuasive. I don't have any other choice. I'm going to walk away."

He was quiet. He was way too quiet. "What the hell happened to you?" He finally asked. "What happened to the woman who left a man she cared about in the middle of the ring to get his ass kicked to prove a point? What the fuck?"

"You guys finally did it. You beat me down."

A fresh drink appeared at that moment, mercifully followed quickly by our meals. It gave me something else to do besides stare at Dean. I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't eating, and I looked up to see him staring down at the table, chewing on his lower lip.

I dropped my gaze back to my burrito and focused on just eating it as quickly as possible without choking. I'd never in my life wanted to be somewhere else so badly. Like so many others lately, this night had gone completely sideways.

"This is about Barrett, isn't it?" He finally asked. "Your bad mood, your willingness to just drop everything and quit...he said something, didn't he?"

I shook my head. "None of your business."

He leaned forward, his jaw set in a hard line. "Oh but it is. You're my business. Whether you like it or not." He finally picked up one of his tacos and started eating. I stared, a bit disgusted – he had no table manners whatsoever. "What?" He asked with his mouth full. I just shook my head.

"That guy's no good for you," he continued between bites. "Don't listen to him."

"But you are good for me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Don't really care, to be honest. I just know I wouldn't tell you to quit like a selfish bastard. But hey," he leaned back, his tacos already demolished, and raised his hands slightly from the table. "You do whatever you think is best, Liz."

"And what if I think the best thing for me is to get as far away from all of this as humanly possible? What would you do then?"

"I wouldn't go away. You can't just leave and have this all tied up in a neat little bow. We're in a little too far for that now, don't you think?"

I waited a minute before responding. I'd known his answer; it was the same since the beginning. I just still didn't understand why that was his answer.

"So if I were to take you back to the hotel tonight, let you fuck me, let you do whatever you wanted to do to me...do you think then you'd let me walk away?"

His eyebrows raised and I had to bite back a smile. He hadn't expected that.

After a minute, he shook his head. "No."

"No," I replied flatly. "So let me draw the conclusion that you're just fucking with me as part of Paul's master plan, and I could walk away and be done with you."

He shook his head. "It's not like that, sweetheart. I'm a gentleman, whether you believe it or not, and you're obviously in distress. Wouldn't be right to take advantage of you."

"You're lying," I said, standing up. "Thanks for the burrito and the heaping dose of bullshit. I'm outta here."

I walked out the door and began to head back to the hotel. He caught up with me quickly, one hand grabbing my arm and spinning me around.

I didn't have time to think or to push him away before he'd wrapped his arms around me and was kissing me, his mouth hard against mine. "I'm not this good of an actor, Lizzy," he said as he pulled away. "I want you. I don't know how else to make that any more obvious to you. This isn't a joke. This isn't a game. It's just me." He bent down and pressed his lips lightly against mine again. "And I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you; not until I'm done with you."

He let go of me and turned to walk in the opposite direction, leaving me somehow more confused and miserable than before. But when he paused at the end of the block to look back at me and shake his head, I realized for the first time that maybe I wasn't the only one feeling that way.


	27. Chapter 27

I'd finally had what I'd been wanting – a night where the phone remained silent, where no one knocked on my door, and where I didn't have to worry about someone otherwise interrupting me in the middle of the night – and I didn't sleep a single fucking minute.

I fought to keep my eyes open and focused on the paperwork in front of me, occasionally slugging down coffee in an attempt to help and wondering if I could just ask one of the docs to give me an IV bag full of the stuff.

Things livened up a bit when the guys started arriving, but I was so far behind in my work that I soon relegated myself back to my office and began the process of trying to stay awake all over again.

So I actually welcomed the knock at my door, and I was even happier to open it and see Wade standing there. His smile faltered a bit as he took in the sight of me – I was sure I looked like Hell.

"Good to see you," I said, putting a smile on my own face. He stepped in and shut the door behind him, immediately pulling me in for a long, thorough kiss.

"I missed you," he said in a low voice.

"I missed you," I replied, resting my head against his chest.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"No," I admitted, finishing the statement with a jaw-cracking yawn. "I apparently had a lot to think about."

"Should I be worried?"

I managed a faint smile. "No decisions made. My brain just wanted to run me around in circles all night. Not the most productive thing."

"Not at all," he agreed. "Hopefully you can get some sleep tonight."

"If I don't, I'll be amazed. And really, really dumb tomorrow."

"I doubt that, love. I don't think you could ever be really, really dumb."

I laughed. "I have my moments, trust me. Lately it feels like there are a lot more of them than usual."

He paused, his mouth contorting into a frown briefly before he pulled it back into a neutral expression. "And I am one of those dumb moments?"

"Yes," I admitted. "You absolutely are. You are the best dumb moment of my life."

I expected him to smile, but he didn't. "It was a joke," I explained, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable tension in the room.

"Of course," he said, his face relaxing as he offered me a smile – a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Fantastic. I'd somehow stepped on another landmine with him. "I should get ready," he added, standing up. "I just wanted to check on you."

"Thanks," I replied, resigned. I'd somehow managed to upset him again. Things had taken the slightest shift in the wrong direction, and now it seemed like everything I did offended him. Right now, I didn't have the energy to care all that much.

He left without kissing me goodbye, and after he was a safe distance away I dropped my head down on my desk.

That was how Dean saw me a few minutes later when he walked in, forehead pressed to desk.

"You're not dead, are you?"

I sat up suddenly, a piece of paper stuck to my head. I quickly pulled it away and managed to glower at him through my sleepy eyes. "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to say hi. You seem about as touchy as your boyfriend was a few minutes ago." He sat down, uninvited.

"How many times do I have to say 'none of your business' before you get the idea?"

"And how many times do I have to tell you that you _are_ my business before you believe me?" He asked, putting his feet up on my desk and lacing his fingers on his stomach. "What was he so sour about?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Can't worry about it right now."

Dean shook his head. "If only you would decide that you shouldn't ever need to worry about it. This passive-aggressive communication style of his doesn't suit you, Lizzy."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," I snapped. I was in no mood.

"You need to find someone who communicates more effectively," he continued, undeterred. "Someone who doesn't just tell you what you want to hear while they're boiling inside to say what they really mean. Someone who will be honest with you, even at their own detriment."

"Let me guess," I said dryly. "That someone is you."

He grinned. "It very well could be. But you'll never know if you don't give me a chance."

I sat back in my chair and stared at him for a minute. "I don't know how to make it any clearer to you that I'm just not interested."

He shook his head. "See, you're adopting this ineffective communication style. In other words, you're fucking lying." He dropped his feet and leaned forward. "How wet did I make you that day in your house? How fucking bad did you want me then?"

I pointed to the door. "Out."

"Oh, so I say something a little too close to the truth for you and you throw me out. Yeah, Lizzy. You're right. You definitely don't have even the slightest bit of interest." He stood up. "Remember what I said that day? You're rapidly approaching that time where I'm going to make you wait around like you've made me."

"Well then, I'll just sit right here and pine away for you," I replied.

He laughed. "You think I meant that I was going to make you wait for a relationship? Wait to fuck me? No, sweetheart. I have something a lot different in mind." He put his palms on my desk and leaned forward. "I'm going to make your wait as agonizing as you've made mine. Do you think I don't know you well enough by now to know what's going to make you squirm like a fish on a hook? Every minute is going to feel like an eternity." He leaned forward and kissed me quickly, before my dulled reflexes allowed me to pull away.

"Do you expect me to be afraid?" I asked. "Do your worst, Dean."

He grinned. "You're really going to wish you hadn't said that, Lizzy."


	28. Chapter 28

I actually had hope that the rest of the night was going to be ok after the first uneventful hour. By the second, I was sure that I was finally going to catch a break and have one fucking show run the way I'd planned it.

So of course, at two hours and twenty-seven minutes, all hell broke loose.

My main event had been Daniel Bryan and Cesaro tagging against Rollins and Reigns. I hated the idea of putting any of Heyman's guys in any matches at all, let alone the main event, but it would've been stupid not to do it – they were talented and popular. I had matched them against the two guys I thought were crafty enough to get the job done.

And they were doing really well with it. Until Brock Lesnar hit the ring like a man on fire, followed closely by Punk and Ambrose.

They actually didn't do much damage. They just surrounded the guys, circling and taunting them while Heyman took his fussy, self-important walk to the ring.

I appeared at the top of the ramp just as he was saying my name.

"I'm so glad you're starting to understand how this works!" He exclaimed. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

I gave him a wry smile. "So let's see. You tried to undermine my authority by making my show utter chaos. You tried to 'reason' with me. You tried to beat a man half to death in front of me. You tried to pick my men off one by one. What's this next failure all about?"

Heyman grinned back at me, baring his teeth like an animal. "I don't believe that this will be a failure, Ms. Moore. I don't believe that at all. Because you see, what's going to happen here tonight is –"

"You know what?" I interrupted. "I don't care. I'll tell you what, Mr. Heyman – enough is enough. You have your match at Survivor Series. Team Heyman versus Team Moore – winning team captain will become the General Manager."

The words tumbled out of my mouth without much thought. I was physically exhausted, and I was just so mentally fucking tired of all of this. I wanted a resolution – one way or another.

Heyman waited for the excited murmur of the crowd to die down before speaking.

"I'm glad you finally saw sense, Ms. Moore! But see, the stipulations have changed. That's what happens when you _delay_ and decide to be difficult."

I felt my back stiffen. This was unexpected. What the hell else could he want, besides my job?

"Let's hear it, then. Contrary to popular belief, I don't have all night – so out with it."

"The main stipulation remains – when my team wins, you will end this farce and turn control over to me. However..."

The thirty second wait nearly killed me. I just wanted to get this over with.

"My victory will also mean that you spend the next thirty days with Dean Ambrose," he finally finished, and my heart dropped. "You will travel with him. You will share hotel rooms with him. You will spend every moment, awake and asleep, at his side."

I flashed my eyes to Dean, who grinned widely at me and waggled his fingers in a wave.

"And I don't think I need to tell you, Ms. Moore, that Dean is _greatly_ looking forward to those thirty days. It's my understanding that he already has several things planned for you."

I licked my lips and nodded. And here was what Dean had up his sleeve all along – an opportunity to force me to give him this 'chance' he felt he deserved. "All right," I said in a low voice. "I'll accept – as long as you accept _my_ new condition."

"Which is?"

"You're _finished_ ," I hissed, feeling the venom in my voice as my anger boiled up through my chest. "You're _done_. You're _history_. You won't darken the doors of WWE ever again. Your merry little band of men will be split up and scattered to the winds, never to reform again. Your resistance will cease to exist, and you will just be an unhappy memory for us all."

Heyman stared at me for a minute, his wheels obviously turning.

"Done," he said after what felt like an eternity.

"Excellent," I snapped. "Now back off and let those boys out of the ring, or the whole fucking thing is off."

Dean was the first to back away, followed by Reigns and Rollins. Eventually, after some prodding by Heyman, Punk and then Lesnar moved aside and let Cesaro and Bryan pass.

I waited until both men were next to me on the ramp. "Pleasure doing business with you, boys," I lied. "Contract signing next week."

I turned on my heel, ready to storm to the back and make everyone's life miserable.

"I'll see you soon, Lizzy," Dean's voice suddenly filled my ears. I paused and looked up at the Tron, seeing him on the screen leaning casually over the top rope, sneering at my retreating figure. "I'll see every last bit of you, real soon."

Suppressing a simultaneous shudder and the urge to turn around and set him straight on several points of interest – namely, that the motherfucker was going to pay for this – I re-started my walk to the back, refusing to turn around and acknowledge him.

He wouldn't be deterred. He had a few last words for me before I walked through the curtain.

"That's right, Lizzy. You keep walking. You keep trying to run away from me. I'll find you; I swear to God. I'll burn this whole world down if I have to."

He didn't realize that he'd already done that, I thought. My whole world was ember and ash, and in the middle of it stood Ambrose with the gas can and lighter.


	29. Chapter 29

The men backstage parted like the sea as I walked through. I heard murmurs, but I ignored them. They'd just seen me sign up for utter destruction; of course they had something to say about it – and it was, understandably, the least of my concerns at the moment.

Cesaro put a hand on my shoulder once we'd gotten past the crowd.

"I hope you know you can count on me to fight for you in the match," he said.

I forced a smile on my face and hoped I didn't look as sick as I felt. "Thank you," I replied with absolute sincerity. "I'm glad you're the first member of my team."

"And I'll be the second," Daniel piped up from behind me. "It'd be an honor to kick those guys in the face for you."

I turned to him, my smile a bit more genuine now. "Thank you. Really. I'm honored that you'll be joining us."

I somehow managed to politely extricate myself from that situation and made a break for my office, trying to look as calm and collected as I could until the door shut behind me.

I leaned heavily on the desk, my heart pounding in my chest. What in the blue fuck had I just done? What had I agreed to? I'd taken a match I knew I couldn't win for a job I wasn't sure I still wanted. That part was fine and dandy.

It was the Dean Ambrose part that terrified me. I'd just signed up for thirty days with the man I'd actively been avoiding – or at least trying to avoid – for the past month.

What the hell was I thinking?

There was a bold knock at the door, and I internally cursed before flinging it open.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Wade snapped as he stepped into my office, shutting the door behind him.

The echoing of my last thought with his first statement was almost funny enough for me to laugh. Almost.

"I just can't fucking win with you, can I?" I said instead, crossing my arms over my chest. "You want me to make a decision, you throw a bitch fit and pout like a child when I delay, and then when I finally do make a decision you're pissed off. What the fuck do you want from me?"

He looked taken aback, and thank God someone else knocked on my door at that moment. I didn't hesitate; I went to the door and stepped out, leaving him alone in my office.

To my great surprise, I was face-to-face with John Cena.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Of course," I replied. I even managed to sound normal. "I was just going to get a cup of coffee. Walk with me?"

"Are you sure?" He asked, glancing back towards the door, obviously uncertain. "If this is a bad time, I can come back."

"Not at all. Really."

When the face of the company – whether others agreed with you or not – wanted a minute of your time, you gave it. And it turned out to be very beneficial for me to make the time for him today.

We sat down in a pair of folding chairs with styrofoam cups of coffee.

"I'll cut right to it," he said, "you know that Brock and I have had our differences. If you have a spot for me, I'd like to join your team."

I nearly spit my coffee out. I did end up swallowing it too quickly and coughed a few times, eliciting a concerned slap or two on the back from John.

"I'd be thrilled," I said once I got my air back. "Seriously. I would be honored."

He smiled and reached out to shake my hand, his larger hand practically swallowing my smaller one. I felt a bit of the weight slip off of my shoulders.

I hadn't counted on Cena in all of my calculations. I thought maybe, if I'd tried to give him the hard sell, he'd join up. But he was one of the guys who had everything to gain by keeping the status quo, so I privately thought that when it came time to choose sides he'd be neutral at best, on Heyman's side at worst. This was the best news I'd had all night – possibly all week, if we were being honest.

I made my way back to my office feeling marginally better, especially considering that mostly everyone had dispersed by now. A second pleasant surprise; my office was empty. Wade must have gotten tired of waiting for me. Good. I wasn't sure I could handle him right now.

I stayed behind, in the quiet, to finish up some work for tomorrow. For once, all was calm – in fact, I didn't see another soul until I walked into the hotel lobby. Even then, I didn't need to interact with anyone. I made my way up to my room, washed my face, and collapsed into my bed without incident.

I managed about three and a half hours of sleep before the banging on my door started. Groaning, I rolled over, expecting to see daylight streaming through the curtains and having to pay a late checkout fee.

To my surprise, it was still dark. I glanced at the clock – four twenty-seven.

Genuinely worried now, I rolled out of bed and hurried to the door. I opened it cautiously to see Dean standing in front of me.

"What?" I asked, alarmed more than angry. I wasn't awake enough to be angry.

"Hi Lizzy," he replied, the slight slur to his words tipping me off that this may not be an emergency.

"Hi Dean. Why are you knocking on my door?"

He leaned against the doorjamb, trying to look casual but just looking drunk. "I just wanted to say hi."

"Well you've done that, so I'm going to go back to bed now."

"Don't be like that; let's hang out for a bit."

I shook my head, trying to keep from laughing. This whole thing was just so absurd. "It's like four-thirty in the morning and I was sleeping. I'd like to get back to that."

"That's a great idea," he said, standing up straight and pushing his way through the doorway and brushing past me. I heard more than saw him flop on the bed.

Realizing that this was rapidly becoming less than amusing, I flipped the light on and walked back towards the bed. I stood at the foot of it, just staring at him for a minute – he looked so calm, legs crossed and hands laced on his stomach, staring back at me from the pillow.

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

I shook my head. "Not until you get out of it."

He shrugged, sitting up. "I just thought you might want to get used to sleeping next to me. I know sometimes there's a period of adjustment when you've been sleeping alone for so long."

"But I haven't been sleeping alone..."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I'm in a good mood; I don't need to think about that."

I sat cautiously on the end of the bed. "You're in a good mood, huh?"

"Of course I am. In only two weeks, I get to beat the hell out of your friends, and then you're mine. Nothing could bother me tonight, sweetheart."

I nodded. "Then do me a favor and let me get some sleep. I'm not in a good mood."

He rolled his eyes. "You know Lizzy, this is getting old. You keep saying that you don't want anything to do with me, but here we sit – you let me into your room, let me in your bed. Why? Why haven't you called for help if you really don't want me here?"

He leaned towards me and ran a single finger across my collarbone. "Just admit it. You don't mind having me around. There's something about me for you, isn't there? Something different than what you're used to in your boring relationships. Something darker; something more dangerous. And you like it."

"This is great analysis," I replied dryly. "I'll be sure to turn it over in my head the next few weeks while I'm figuring out how to get the fuck away from you for good."

His lip curled up. "I don't think you're getting it yet, darling. But you will."

"The only thing I'm concerned about is that you get the hell out of my room and let me sleep."

He took his hand off of me finally. "All right. I'll do that. I want you rested, after all. But I do have a question for you before I go."

I raised an eyebrow in silent acquiescence.

"Why are you sleeping alone tonight? I thought he'd be happy that you're marching towards your destruction."

I shook my head. "I really don't know," I admitted.

He laughed, standing up and nearly falling over. "I guessed as much. This type of thing really doesn't suit you, Lizzy. I wish you'd just listen to me. You'd be so much better off."

With that, he left – and I settled back into that empty bed, completely unable to sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

I was able to get into the arena for Smackdown a little later than usual, thanks to having my work done yesterday. I walked in with my stomach in knots, not knowing what to expect anymore.

For once, it was a calm night. The only real occurrence of note was that Dolph Ziggler joined Team Moore. We were now four; and I just needed to find one more guy.

Both Dean and Wade avoided me. I'd expected it from Wade, but Dean leaving me to my own devices was a pleasant surprise.

Relief quickly turned to suspicion as I was able to go through the whole show, the trip home, and the next three days without hearing from him. It was the first time in a long time that had happened, and it only made me dread what was coming next.

As he always seemed to, he popped back up at the most inconvenient time possible.

"Liz Moore," I mumbled into the phone. I hadn't even bothered to open my eyes.

"Miss me?"

I groaned. "No. What do you want?"

"I want to know if you're in a better mood yet or not."

"I was, until you decided to call me in the middle of the night. Why the hell do you always do that?"

"You're more honest when I catch you off guard."

I sighed. "I'm honest with you when I'm awake; you just usually don't like what I'm saying. Answer shopping is really beneath you, you know."

He chuckled. "I may also like how sassy you get when you're cranky."

"Lovely. So you called me to hear me bitch at you for being an asshole, then?"

"No. I really did call to see how you were doing. I thought you might call me first, but I got bored with waiting."

"That wouldn't have any relation to how much you've had to drink tonight, would it?"

"I'm not drunk dialing you," he replied, a disapproving tone creeping into his voice. "The other night was...an anomaly. I don't usually get out of hand like that."

"Why did you?"

"I was celebrating. I wasn't sure that you would accept our new stipulation. Now that you have, I've been all business. This is a high-stakes match for me."

"How in the hell did you ever get Heyman to agree to it?" I asked.

"When I mentioned that you'd hate it – I didn't tell him you'd pretend to hate it but secretly love it – he jumped at the chance. You managed to piss him off, you know."

"More than usual?"

"Oh yeah. He figured he'd be able to rattle you with lover boy. He was livid when it didn't work. I was just impressed."

I laughed bitterly. "Impressed? You were impressed that I let someone get their ass beat because I was too proud to stop it?"

"No. I was impressed because you made the logical decision and did what was necessary. It might seem heartless to some – including the idiot you left out there – but I think it was admirable."

"I'll be sure to put that on my resume when I look for my next job," I replied dryly. "'Made business decisions endorsed by the most unstable superstar in the WWE.' I'm sure I'll get lots of calls for interviews with that accomplishment."

"I'm paying you a compliment. The least you could do is be nice about it."

"I don't have to be nice to you."

"No," he agreed. "You don't. It would make your life a whole hell of a lot easier, though. If you were nice to me, maybe I'd be nice to you for those thirty days where you're mine. Did you ever think of that?"

"You're speaking like it's a foregone conclusion."

He scoffed. "Come on, Lizzy. We both know you didn't want the match because you know you don't have anyone that can beat us. You only took it because you were backed into a corner and you decided that you wanted to lose."

"Why would I want to lose if it meant being with you?"

"Are you really going to make me explain it to you again? Seriously?"

"You think I secretly want you. I don't know how to convince you that's just not the case."

"And I'm getting impatient trying to convince you that it _is_ the case. So impatient that you might just push me someplace you don't want me to go."

My heart sped up, and this conversation – previously merely annoying – started to make me angry.

"Are you fucking threatening me?"

He laughed. "I'm only threatening you with something you desperately want, sweetheart. I'm threatening you with me holding you down on the bed, ramming my dick into you and making you moan my name. I could make you admit that you want me desperately; I could make you admit that you _need_ me."

"I don't need anyone," I snapped. "Don't you think for a fucking second that I do."

"All right, all right. I didn't mean to offend. Really."

"Then just what the fuck did you mean to do?"

"I meant to make you horny."

That threw me off so hard that I actually sputtered for a few seconds. "What?" I finally managed to say.

He laughed. "I just wanted to turn you on."

"Why?"

"I'll give you a pass because I woke you up, but think about it for a minute. Late night. You and me on the phone. Talking dirty."

It dawned on me quickly. "Oh. Oh God." I tried to shake the thought of him, laying in bed, doing... And to my absolute horror, I remembered that day in my front hall, remembered it vividly, how his lips had felt on my neck, how hard he'd...

He was laughing. "So can I take it that you won't help me finish?"

"You are _disgusting_ ," I growled.

"Oh come on, sweetheart. I'm being a good boy, waiting for you. I'm not going out and fucking anyone else. I tried that; it didn't work. I don't think I'll be able to be really satisfied until it's you...pressed up against the wall...my mouth on yours to keep you from screaming while my fingers slide –"

I hung up, stunned and a little shaky. Maybe I'd been naïve, thinking that he was just trying to get under my skin. Because it seemed like he had a different destination entirely in mind, and he was doing absolutely everything he could to make that abundantly clear.

My phone beeped, and I glanced over. Text message. I wasn't smart enough not to look.

'Sleep well, Lizzy. I know I will.'

He'd attached a picture. I wasn't sure if it was morbid curiosity or genuine interest that made me open it. I dropped the phone with a small noise of disgust as I found myself looking at a small puddle of white fluid on a tanned abdomen.

Apparently he hadn't needed that much help after all.

I didn't think. That was usually where all of my problems started.

'What the hell is wrong with you?' I fired back.

My phone rang in my hand. Again, the not thinking thing. I answered it.

"Where are my manners?" He asked, his voice languid and calm. "Do you need me to keep talking? I know it might take you a little bit longer to finish. I'll be a good boy and stay awake and help you if you need me to, babe. I don't want you to have a tough time sleeping."

"That is _not_ what I meant."

"Are you sure? Tell me that you're not just the slightest bit wet for me. Tell me without lying. Remember, honesty is our policy."

My silence spoke volumes.

He chuckled. "Do us both a favor. Stop being so stubborn. I'll be nice. You'll have fun. Things will be perfect." He paused. "Now. Do you want me to keep talking to you?"

I hated myself just a little bit. "Yes," I admitted.

I spent the next ten minutes listening to his gruff voice telling me about all of the things he was going to do to me when I was finally in his grasp, following his instructions on how and where to touch myself. His voice got lower and more urgent as my breath came faster and harsher, punctuated by soft moans.

Finally, trembling wildly with the phone glued to my ear, I cried out and felt my whole body clench. "That's it, baby," I vaguely heard Dean say. "That's my girl. Oh babe..."

I fell back on my pillow, trying to catch my breath.

"Feel better?" He asked after a long minute.

"Yeah," I replied in a small voice. Now that we were done, I felt...wrong. For a lot of different reasons – Wade, work, the whole 'opposite sides of warring factions' thing.

"So are you ready to admit you want me?" He asked, a note of teasing in his voice.

I managed a smile. "I'm ready to admit that I want you to do a lot of those things to me."

"I'll take it. And I'll do all that...and more. Whether we win on Sunday or not, Lizzy. You're mine."


	31. Chapter 31

I managed to fall back asleep easily after my late-night conversation with Dean. I even slept exceptionally well.

It was the living with myself after I woke up that I had a hard time with.

Part of me was a little pissed that he'd been right all along. I did want him, at least physically. I didn't really know why. I knew it had started that day in my house, the day where I'd almost lost control and dragged him back to my bedroom. Since then, I couldn't help but see him as desirable. And that had irritated the hell out of me.

I was also well aware that this would add a whole new level of complication to not only my personal life – I guiltily shoved thoughts of Wade aside – but to my professional life.

What if, by some miracle, we won? And I was this guy's boss indefinitely and much more directly without Heyman in the picture? That made two of my employees I'd had inappropriate contact with. Pretty sure that wouldn't win me any points on the old annual evaluation.

And then there was the really problematic fact that even with all of these issues, if he decided to corner me again I wasn't sure I'd stop him. I wasn't even sure I'd try.

I could've let this throw me into a bad mood, but honestly...I was tired of being angry. I was tired of worrying about every little thing I said or did. I had one more week before I knew whether I was going to have to shape up or ship out.

And if it was ship out, so be it. I'd have my thirty days to get Ambrose out of my system and then I could start over.

It seemed like such a solid plan at the time. But of course, as I walked in to the arena Monday, the situation was about to change drastically and blow that solid plan all to hell.

It all started with the flowers. The fucking flowers.

Well, maybe that's not right. It started when Ambrose walked by my door, singing to himself. He glanced in, and when our eyes met I immediately turned red. He actually chuckled, winked at me, and kept walking. I couldn't help but smile, and he looked back and caught that.

Maybe if that hadn't happened, that little acquiescence, that little acknowledgment... But still. It did.

So later, when Wade showed up at my door and sheepishly handed me a lovely bouquet of flowers, he might as well have been handing me a grenade with the pin pulled out.

"What are these for?" I asked cautiously, inviting him in to my office and shutting the door. I still had no idea where we stood or how to handle him, and privacy seemed like the best option.

"It's my way of saying 'sorry for being a twat,'" he replied, producing a vase from his bag and handing it to me to put the flowers in.

I managed a small smile in spite of my heart thumping madly in my chest. "Thanks for the apology," I said carefully. "These really weren't necessary, though."

He nodded. "I know. Just consider them a peace offering, please. It's not my place to question you or the decisions you're making."

I leaned against the edge of my desk, arms crossed over my chest. "So...where does this leave you and I?" I intentionally avoided the word 'us,' as I wasn't sure there _was_ an 'us.'

He glanced away briefly, the cheery smile on his face falling away for the tiniest of moments, and I saw this for what it was – a break up.

"The timing isn't right for you," he said, "and I understand that. It was selfish and childish of me to try and force your hand, and for that I am truly sorry." He smiled. "I still like you, Liz. I think I always will. But if we can't make it work right now, we can't make it work. We can always revisit it later on, if the opportunity presents itself."

I didn't realize how worried I'd been about this until the tension slid from my shoulders. I nodded. "Thank you," I said. "I'm sorry things got so out of hand."

He shrugged. "Sometimes, situations run away from you. I don't regret what happened – I might regret that we can't take it further, but I will never regret being with you, no matter how brief it might've been."

I smiled. "Nor will I."

His smile came back in full force. "Excellent. Now that that bit of business is out of the way, it's my understanding that you're still one man short for next Sunday."

"I am," I agreed, glancing back at my desk. I'd had a few names scribbled down somewhere, but none of them were particularly viable. I'd been wishing for Sheamus to return for the past two weeks, because I thought maybe with him and Cena I'd have a fighting chance, but he was still recuperating.

"If you'll have me, I'd like to be your fifth."

These words were a relief, too. My biggest source of stress had become the least stressful thing in my life in the span of five minutes. Strange how that worked sometimes.

"That would be wonderful," I replied. "Are you sure that you want to get involved, though?"

He nodded, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "It'll be my privilege to get a little bit of payback on that lot," he said, a small hint of vicious zeal in his voice. "And, let's be honest, love – I'm already involved. I should see it through."

We chatted for a few more minutes before he had to leave and get ready for the evening. I walked him out and we parted with a hug; Wade making his way to the locker room and me heading to catering to search down a cup of coffee.

I was barely paying attention to my surroundings, thinking about the contract signing that evening and the match this coming Sunday. So of course, I didn't see Dean watching Wade and I intently...watching us part with a hug as we exited the office that had been closed for about ten minutes...and leaving a vase of flowers on the desk.

I didn't think about how it looked, because who in the hell would be watching? Who indeed, except for the man who watched me constantly?

He timed it perfectly, really. I was just walking up to the door, wondering what he was doing in there, when he casually grabbed the vase and threw it at the wall next to him.

I stopped short, spilling coffee all over my hands, entirely stunned, as shards of glass, water, and flowers flew everywhere. Glancing up to make sure I was still watching, he deliberately stomped on a few of the blooms, making sure that nothing at all was salvageable.

I finally met his eyes, my brow furrowed in confusion. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

He took two long strides and was right in front of me, looming over me with his fists clenched. I looked up into his face and saw a few trickles of blood – small cuts from where the glass had rebounded off the wall and hit him.

He shook his head, his nostrils flaring out. He took my chin in one big hand and held my face tightly. "Big mistake, Lizzy," he growled after a moment before finally letting me go. "Biggest fucking mistake of your life."

He pushed past me and continued on his way, leaving me absolutely baffled as to why he was so upset with me now.


	32. Chapter 32

I cleaned up the mess in my office and then focused on running the show, trying hard to ignore the fact that the time where I would _become_ the show when I signed the contract with Heyman was rapidly approaching.

I made my way out to the ring after the main event, determined on the surface and terrified underneath that. Earlier today, the idea of losing hadn't seemed so terrible. Then again, that was before Dean Ambrose had declared a war on flowers and friendship.

Regardless, I was in it now. I couldn't turn back. Truthfully, I didn't really want to turn back – I still wanted this to be over, one way or another. I pushed away all thoughts of having to spend thirty days with a pissed-off Ambrose or being unemployed. I could worry about that if it happened. Right now, I needed to take this final step and then let the chips fall where they may.

Heyman and I had agreed that it would only be the two of us at the signing. I watched him waddle towards the ring, forcing my face into a neutral expression. He took a seat across from me and studied me for a moment, a microphone hanging from his hand.

"Ms. Moore, are you sure about this?" He finally asked, leaning forward. "You stand to lose... _everything_."

"I'm well aware of the stipulations, Mr. Heyman," I replied, trying to keep myself calm. "And I would like to proceed."

His eyes narrowed. "Far be it from me to try to talk you out of it, but..."

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest and fighting back a smile. "You obviously have something on your mind, Paul. Let's cut the BS. Say what you mean."

"Your job, I can understand. A woman with your background will be able to find a new job without a problem. But are you sure about signing up for thirty days with Dean Ambrose?" His voice was incredulous. "The man is, to the say the least, a bit...unbalanced."

I was raising the microphone to my mouth to reply when I heard an excited murmur run through the crowd. Above Heyman's head, the camera swung to show Ambrose walking calmly through the crowd, making his way to us.

I decided to wait and see what he had to contribute to this little discussion. After earlier tonight, I was sure it wouldn't be good – but I still needed to hear it.

He stepped in between the ropes, staring at me while he took up residence at the side of the table, between our two chairs. He finally turned his attention to Heyman.

"Shut up, Paul," he said. "Just shut up."

Then, uncomfortably, his attention was back on me. "Sign the damn thing, Lizzy," he snapped. "Get this over with."

"Liz –" Heyman tried to start, but Dean interrupted him.

"I told you to shut up, Paul," he snapped, keeping his eyes on me. "This isn't about you any more. This is about me and little Lizzy."

Dean put his hand on the black folder and shoved it in front of me. "Sign."

I didn't move. I held his gaze. I'm still not sure why I didn't just listen. After all, I'd come out here to sign the damn thing – he wasn't telling me to do something I hadn't planned on. But something in me told me that backing down now wouldn't be the right thing – so I held firm.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. A small jolt of fear settled in at my tailbone, but I didn't move. He ran his tongue over his teeth, considering his next course of action.

He finally took a few deliberate steps towards me, ending up directly beside me. He leaned on the table with one hand and flipped the folder open with the other.

"Sign it," he growled, jabbing a finger at the signature line. "Sign it and seal your fate, sweetheart."

I turned towards him and met his eyes. "And what are you going to do if I don't?"

His face went a little pale, his lips pulled back from his teeth into a sneer. "I'll never stop. You know that. Do you remember what I said the other night, about you being nice to me so I would be nice to you?" I nodded my confirmation. "You've already fucked that up. Trust me when I say that pissing me off right now is the worst possible thing you could do. So stop fucking around and just sign the damn thing."

"Not until you get out of my face," I replied. "So back up."

His nostrils flared slightly, but he put his hands up and stepped back. I turned towards the table, picked up the pen, and signed it before shoving it back across the table to Heyman.

Dean watched intently, waiting until Paul had signed it. It might have been my imagination, but Paul looked reluctant. I didn't understand it then, but I also had bigger problems to worry about.

Dean had moved back beside me and suddenly wound his hand in my hair, yanking my head back. "You have no idea," he said in a low, gleeful voice, "what you just signed up for, babe." He ran his tongue up my neck and over my cheek before I twisted away from him.

I didn't think. I stood up and I slapped him hard across the face.

He looked stunned for a minute, but then he laughed. "You wanna get rough, Lizzy?" He stepped towards me and grabbed me by the arms, pinning them against my sides. "I can get rough."

I tried to squirm away, kicking him ineffectually in the shins. He turned me around so that my back was pressed into my chest and wrapped an arm tightly around my waist. He wrapped a hand in my hair again and yanked my head to the side, exposing my neck and ear to his mouth.

"I thought that we had an understanding, you and I," he said quietly in my ear. "I thought that maybe, just maybe, we could have something special. Then you go and ruin it by running back to that piece of shit."

"I didn't –"

"Shut up. I gave you chance after chance after chance, Lizzy. I was _nice_ to you. You still decided to use me, yank my heart out of my chest, and stomp on it. So now I'm going to be an absolute fucking asshole."

He finally let go of me, and the sudden freedom surprised me – I fell and landed on my knees before scrambling away from him.

The right side of his mouth turned up in a twisted smile. "Run while you can, sweetheart. Soon there isn't going to be anywhere _to_ run. T-minus six days, Lizzy. I hope you're ready."

He blew me a kiss before rolling out of the ring and making his exit, not once looking back.

After a minute, I was surprised to see a hand come into my line of vision. Heyman was offering me a hand up. Reluctantly, I took it.

"Thanks," I muttered, feeling my face get hot and tears fill my eyes – a delayed reaction to what Dean had just done, I was sure.

Heyman nodded, before offering me his hand again – this time to shake. I was suspicious, but I shook.

"Good luck on Sunday," he said.

I gave a curt nod of acknowledgment before making my exit. I managed to make it through the backstage area, waving off anyone who asked if I was ok, and closed myself in my office.

That's when I finally started to shake. It had been a long time since I'd seen Dean that angry – in fact, I think the last time was when he'd broken his arm. Throughout everything else, he'd never been as physical and aggressive with me as he was tonight...and that didn't bode well for my foreseeable future.

I took a deep breath and ran my hands over my face. Six days. I wondered how many times things would change between now and then.


	33. Chapter 33

I feel no shame in admitting that I hid in my office until I thought everyone was gone for the night. I didn't want to try to explain things that I didn't understand, or see the pity on the faces around me. I just wanted this fucking bullshit to be over.

Around midnight, Dean tried calling me. I let it go to voicemail. I expected him to keep calling, but he didn't. Against my better judgment, I decided to listen to his message.

It was long, about three minutes – and all I heard was a woman moaning and someone – I assumed it was Dean – panting as a bed creaked rhythmically.

My suspicions were confirmed when I received a text message a few minutes later. 'Turn about is fair play, Lizzy,' it said, and the picture attached showed Dean on his back, a dark-haired woman's head in his lap. He was flipping the camera off and smirking at me.

Asshole.

I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, and probably trying to hurt me. I decided not to reply; nothing I said would change his mind, not when he was still pissed off. Maybe later this week he'd listen to reason, but I doubted it.

I was startled out of all of this by a knock on my door. Before I could say anything, Wade poked his head in.

"It's safe," he said. "Nobody else is here."

I managed a small smile. "Thanks," I said, standing up and stretching. "I can finally go home."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

He nodded. "Understandable. Would you mind giving me a ride back to the hotel? I told my ride to go ahead. I wanted to stay back and make sure you were all right."

I smiled a bit more naturally. "That was really sweet of you. Of course I'll give you a ride. In fact," I dug into my pocket and tossed him my keys. "I'm going to let you drive."

Our ride back was silent, but not in an awkward way. Wade was probably the only person whose company I could tolerate at the moment.

I expected the two of us to part ways in the lobby, but he shook his head at me, smiling. "Door to door service, love. Remember?"

I smiled. "I do remember. Different room this time, though – five-twenty."

"Five-twenty," he replied, punching the button for the elevator. While we waited, I was surprised that his arm snaked around my shoulders. I stiffened for a moment before relaxing and leaning into him. His thumb stroked up and down my arm, and I felt myself relax further.

It felt natural with him, for the first time in a long time. It felt easy.

I apparently wasn't the only one who felt that way, because the minute the elevator doors shut and we were alone, he bent down and kissed me.

I kissed him back, turning my body into his and wrapping my arms around his neck.

There was no discussion. The minute the doors opened, he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Fumbling as we attempted to both keep kissing and make it to my hotel room, we finally unlocked the door and got inside.

He threw me down on the bed and climbed on top of me, kissing my neck and stroking his big hands down over my breasts. I sighed happily and pressed my hips up against him, running my hands over his back. I gripped a handful of his shirt and yanked it up over his head. He paused and helped me take his shirt off before returning his full attention to me. Within minutes, I was completely naked and he was sliding down the bed to put his face between my thighs.

A small shudder ran through me at the first touch of his tongue, and I reached down to run a hand through his hair.

"Mmmm," was his contented reply before he began to really work; stroking his tongue around and over my aching clit, pausing occasionally to suck on my swollen flesh.

I could never, ever have thought that I'd be distracted during this...but I was. And I wasn't going to fully enjoy myself until I'd taken care of the nagging thought in my head.

Trying to make sure Wade didn't notice, I reached for my phone. I draped my free arm over my breasts – he wasn't getting any free shots – and took a quick picture of me with Wade between my thighs.

Then I dropped the phone and gave in to him completely, having an orgasm that left me breathless for a few minutes.

I stared at him from the pillow as he pulled himself up to his knees and unbuckled his belt, pulling his jeans and boxers down. He was only slightly hard – understandable; I hadn't touched him at all – and I readjusted my position on the bed to take him into my mouth.

He drew in a sharp breath and ran a hand back through my hair, pulling it away from my face and holding it back out of my way. I glanced up and saw him looking down, watching my every move as I moved my mouth over his rapidly-stiffening cock.

When he was completely hard, I pulled back and began teasing the head of his cock with my tongue, stroking along the sensitive ridge on the underside. He let out a small moan, his hips thrusting forward of their own volition to try to get more of my mouth on him. I obliged for a minute before he pulled back from me.

He picked me up and turned me around, pressing my face down into the bed and pulling my hips up. Without any hesitation, he rammed deep inside of me.

It was the first time he'd done so without any protection, and the difference was immediately obvious – with how big he was, I could feel every ridge, every throb – and it felt amazing.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought so; he began thrusting deep immediately, one hand moving back up to grip my hair while the other guided my hips into his thrusts.

He didn't last long...but then, neither did I. I had my second orgasm of the night just as his cock started to throb deep inside of me, and I think my moaning pushed him over the edge. He put both his hands on my hips and thrust as deep as he could, panting and moaning as he filled me.

After a long minute of being still, he pulled back. I felt the warm, wet fluid dripping out of me as he flopped down on his back beside me. I slowly dropped down on to my belly, feeling relaxed and suddenly exhausted – like I could sleep for a week.

Wade turned to look at me after a moment, smiling. "I guess maybe I lied to you earlier," he said, reaching over to run a hand over my back. "About revisiting everything at a later date."

I smiled at him. "Not necessarily. It _is_ later."

He laughed. "That it is. God, I haven't cum that hard since I was a teenager just discovering what fun I could have with girls." He reached up and stroked some hair out of my face. "Which brings up the uncomfortable topic...should I be worried that I might have someone calling me 'daddy' in about nine months?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "No. You have nothing to worry about in that regard – I take precautions."

"Phew," he said, pretending to wipe his hand over his brow before smiling at me again. "Come here, love," he murmured, pulling me over to rest on his chest and kissing my forehead. "I've missed you so much, you know."

"I've missed you," I replied, snuggling into him. And I had. I hadn't missed the weirdness, but I had missed this closeness. I had missed his stability and his sanity, and I hadn't realized how much until this moment.

We held each other for a long while. "Do you want me to go?" He finally asked.

"No," I replied drowsily.

"Good," he said, placing another kiss on top of my head. "Because I think I want you again."

I laughed. "Making up for lost time?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, taking my chin in his hand and bringing my face up to kiss me.

"Don't you want me to clean up first?" I asked as he pulled me on top of him.

"Just so I can make another mess?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, love. I just want you."

This time was a bit slower, less frantic, but no less satisfying. He dropped off into sleep almost immediately after, still naked with a small smile on his face.

After his gentle snoring had filled the room, I carefully climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I paused to grab my phone.

I felt a vicious streak of pleasure as I hit the send button on the picture of Wade and I, complete with the message – 'It sure is, asshole.'


	34. Chapter 34

I'd half-expected to wake up to a slew of nasty text messages, but when I finally got around to checking there was nothing – radio silence. That probably didn't bode particularly well for me, but I found that I couldn't muster the energy to care. Things were likely going to be bad either way, so what was piling a little more on top of everything else?

These were all thoughts that hit me later, of course. I woke up that morning to a warm man pressed against my back, his hand gently stroking my hair out of my face.

"Morning, love," he murmured, bending down and pressing a kiss on my neck.

"Morning," I replied, still drowsy as I wiggled and pushed my body further into his.

"How did you sleep?"

"Perfectly," I yawned, wondering why he wasn't letting me sleep now. This answer would quickly become apparent. "How did you sleep?"

"Fantastically," he said. "I don't ever want to leave this bed."

I smiled. "Mmm...I know that feeling."

His hand came around and cupped my breast. "What would you say to delaying the inevitable a little while longer?"

I laughed and rolled over to face him. "You're insatiable," I said, leaning forward to kiss him. He responded by putting his hand between my thighs.

When we were done, I was tempted to fall back asleep – but seeing as Wade was hauling himself out of bed, I figured it was time for me to do the same.

I watched him dress, and the vague thought of what happened now popped into my head. Did we go back to being 'broken up'? Or did we act like we had before, professional at work and less-so in private?

He buckled his pants and came around to kiss me goodbye. "I'm going to go back to my room and get ready to go. Do you want to drive together?"

I blinked. This was new. "Sure," I said. "I'm going to shower, so why don't you take my key in case I'm still in there when you get back?"

We temporarily parted ways, and I made my way to the shower. I thought about this new development now – driving together, arriving to the arena together...being seen together...

Were we going public?

I found the idea didn't bother me. I hadn't shown him any favoritism – in fact, I'd done the opposite. He would have to earn every opportunity, perhaps even more-so than someone I wasn't involved with. And if people complained...I could worry about it if I still had a job after next Sunday.

Besides...it would really piss Ambrose off, and that made me smile.

So that's how it ended up that we walked into the arena that day holding hands, and literally nearly ran into Dean, who had been waiting outside my office.

His face first went pale and then a dark red as he saw the two of us, and I flashed him a brilliant smile. Dickhead.

His fists bunched up by his sides, and he actually took a step towards us.

"Problem, Dean?" Wade asked.

Dean's eyes shot over to him, his upper lip curled up and his teeth clenched. Then, suddenly, his expression smoothed out and his hands relaxed. "No problem at all," he said, smiling widely. He walked away from us whistling.

I was pretty sure my jaw hit my chest. I turned to look at Wade, who merely shrugged. "Don't ask me," he said, bending down and kissing me lightly on the mouth. "Hopefully that means you get a reprieve tonight."

I laughed. "I think that's a little too much to hope for."

He nodded. "If he gives you any serious trouble, let me know. I'll take care of it."

We parted ways, and I tried to get to work – but I was distracted. I kept my phone on my desk, expecting text messages or phone calls...but there was nothing.

Really? No snarky replies? No pissed off ranting?

What the fuck was happening?

I found myself getting annoyed by his lack of response, which surprised me a bit. He'd been up my ass for about two months now, and all I'd wanted was for him to go away. Now that he did, I wanted a response from him. It didn't make any sense to me.

I pushed it all aside and focused on running what might be my last show. Everything actually went quite smoothly, and before I knew it I was kissing Wade goodbye and settling in for a long night of paperwork. I'd been too upset to do it the night before, and another day had just added to the stack on my desk.

I thought I was alone when the singing started outside of my door, followed by several loud crashes. I recognized the voice, and I actually found a smile on my face before I forced it away and stood to yank open the door.

Dean was out there, kicking an aluminum garbage can down the hall.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Hi Lizzy," he said, giving the can one final kick without even looking at me. "I'm glad you're still here."

He finally turned his head to look at me. "We have a lot to talk about, don't you think?"

"No," I lied. "I don't think we do."

He turned his whole body then and came towards me, standing less than a foot in front of me. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Stupid. Don't be stupid. I'm not really in the mood to play games with you tonight, Lizzy."

I raised an eyebrow. "So why are you still here?"

"Because we need to talk."

I shook my head. "No. We don't." I turned to walk away, expecting him to grab me – but he didn't. What he did do was follow me into my office and shut the door behind him. I turned back and stared at him for a minute, arms crossed over my chest.

"Fine. You have something you want to say? Say it."

He pursed his lips, and I could see him considering his words. "You're making a mistake, you know."

I rolled my eyes. "Because he's not you?"

"No, because he's...gahhh..." He actually punched his thigh with his fist, and I found myself completely baffled. He'd never been at a loss for words where Wade was concerned before tonight. "Because he's just not right for you."

"And was that cute brunette perfect for you? The love of your miserable life?" I snapped. "Do you even remember her name? Don't lecture me, Dean. Don't you dare. You started it."

He tilted his head, and then, to my amazement, he smiled. "You're jealous. You're actually jealous. That's adorable."

"Shut up."

"You're not denying it." He took a few steps towards me and put a hand on my waist, pulling me a little closer to him. "Just say it, Lizzy. Admit that you're jealous and that's why you're putting on a little show with Wade. Tell me," he said, bending down so our faces were level, "tell me that you don't actually care about him."

I swallowed hard. "Fine. I was jealous. But I do care about Wade."

He shook his head. I couldn't understand why he wasn't gloating about my admission – he actually looked angry.

"I warned you," he said, pulling his hand off my waist and backing away a bit. "I warned you, but you didn't listen. And you've got nobody to blame but yourself."

My brow furrowed. "Dean, what are you talking about?"

He blinked a few times. "I told you he wasn't right for you. When he breaks your heart, Lizzy, it's on you. I won't be there to pick up the pieces."

"That's not what you've said before. So why the change?"

He stared at me, his tongue working over his teeth. "You made me jealous too, you know. It ate at me all night, knowing that he was the one in your bed." He stepped back towards me. "It should've been me. And we both know that."

After a long minute, I nodded. "It could've been you, until you lost your temper for no good reason."

He laughed bitterly. "I had a reason; trust me."

"He was breaking up with me."

"Is that what he said?" Dean laughed. "Obviously that didn't stick, seeing as he was fucking you six hours later."

"Only because of you," I snapped. "You were a total asshole last night."

His face was growing more pale by the second. I didn't understand this – it was so much different than our usual spats.

"I was," he agreed. "I'm sorry."

He crossed the office suddenly and pulled me into a kiss, his right hand winding itself in my hair and his left settling back around my waist. I kissed him back without thinking, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He pulled away to kiss my neck, his grip tightening on me when I moaned quietly and ran a hand down his back. He slid his tongue up to my earlobe, gently flicking it with his tongue. "You know," he said in a low voice, "the whole time I was with her I was thinking of you. Thinking about how you sound when you cum. Thinking about how well you follow my instructions. Thinking about the next time I had you alone. You've ruined other women for me, and I haven't even touched you."

I turned my head and kissed him, strangely moved by this weird confession that he thought of me while he was fucking someone else.

Just as we were getting to the point where I was certain we would be throwing everything off of my desk and having sex right then and there, he wrenched himself away from me.

"Wha...?" I started to ask, but he shook his head vigorously. I noticed that he was punching himself in the thigh again.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know," he said. "One way or another."

Then, leaving me horny and confused as fuck, he walked out and didn't look back.


	35. Chapter 35

The rest of the week went too quickly, and before I knew what was happening it was Sunday.

I felt like maybe I should dread the outcome more than I did, especially with how Dean had been acting. I hadn't heard from him since our last little encounter in my office, and I had no idea what he was thinking or how he was feeling...and what that might mean for me.

My sense of unease only grew when he completely ignored me backstage. This just wasn't like him. Something was up, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I tried to convince myself that he was just trying not to get distracted; he had said that this match was a big one for him...but I thought it was a big deal because of me. So why would he ignore me?

Once the show started, I didn't have time to think about it any more. And before I knew it, it was time for me to walk out there and discover my fate.

Wade caught me before we went out and gave me a light kiss on the mouth. "It'll be all right, love," he said, his big hands on my arms. "One way or another...it's going to work out."

I forced myself to smile in spite of the wave of nausea rolling over me. I didn't think I could safely open my mouth, so I nodded.

I listened from just behind the curtain while Heyman and crew made their entrance. Heyman stopped briefly and shook my hand before going out. He was being awfully cordial, considering what was at stake.

I walked out first and stood by the ring, waiting for the rest of my team – Cesaro, Bryan, Cena, Ziggler, and Wade – to make their way out.

For the first time since he'd left me Tuesday night, Dean acknowledged me – by yelling my name, waggling his fingers in a little wave, and blowing me a kiss. I suppressed the urge to give him the finger, settling instead for an irritated glare in his direction.

My last guy made his way out, and I watched as they discussed who would be starting the match. Once Bryan was in the ring waiting for Rollins, the bell rang.

It was a hell of a fight.

These two guys were incredibly evenly-matched, and neither was afraid to take a risk to get the upper hand. I winced a few times as Rollins flew from the top rope and drove his knee into Bryan's face. Neither could get the pinfall, though, and the next set of men to get tagged in were Cena and Lesnar.

These guys genuinely did not like one another, so neither of them held back. Within five minutes, Cena had a bloody nose and Lesnar's left eye was beginning to swell shut.

Cena managed to tag in Bryan again, who tried to make Lesnar tap with the crossface. But Lesnar was a monster, and he simply stood up with Bryan clinging to him and dumped him on the back of his head before tagging in Regins.

Reigns was big and aggressive, but he was also young and stupid. He tried to go for a power bomb and Bryan made him pay, pulling him down in the middle of the ring and locking in the crossface, which had just failed moments before.

This time, it work – Reigns tapped, and we were up one man. I felt myself relax marginally.

Bryan had no reprieve – Ambrose came in like a man on fire and began pummeling Daniel, who just barely managed to crawl away and tag in Wade.

I watched as Ambrose grinned widely before going to work, beating the absolute hell out of Wade. To his credit, Wade got his fair share of shots in as well – but Dean absolutely got the best of him. I'd never seen him so aggressive, and it made me a little bit worried.

Wade finally rolled out of the ring and tagged in Ziggler, and that was when we suffered our first elimination.

The match seemed to go forever, with eliminations happening pretty evenly – Rollins went next, followed by Bryan, then Lesnar. Once was Lesnar was eliminated and I had Cesaro, Cena, and Wade left against Punk and Ambrose, I actually felt relieved – we were going to win. Holy Hell, we were going to win.

Punk beat the absolute hell out of Cesaro, who then tagged in Cena. Much like Cena and Lesnar, Cena and Punk didn't like one another. It was brutal, and both men limped into their respective corners to tag in the fresh men – Ambrose and Wade again.

Just as Cena was about to hit Wade's outstretched hand, Wade pulled back and jumped down from the apron.

My heart started pounding in my chest. "What are you doing?" I asked, taking a few steps towards him. I was genuinely baffled by his actions, and I didn't begin to put the pieces together until a few minutes after the whole thing had ended.

He didn't answer; he grabbed me and kissed me hard before pulling away, turning his back, and walking up the ramp...but not before he paused to shake Heyman's hand.

In the ring beside me, Ambrose had come in and pinned Cena. A fresh Ambrose, a resting Punk, and an exhausted Cesaro were all that was left – and all I could do was stare up the ramp after Wade, astounded at what had just happened.

"Pay attention, Lizzy," Dean yelled, bringing me back to reality. He'd dragged Cesaro into the ring and was just about to plant his lifeless body with a DDT.

I turned just as Cesaro's face hit the mat. Not satisfied, Dean picked him up and planted him again. He made sure to make eye contact with me and hold it while the ref counted. 1...2...3.

It was over. I'd lost.


	36. Chapter 36

"Get in here, Lizzy," Dean called to me, rising to his knees and shoving Cesaro out of the way.

I glanced back up at the ramp, expecting to see Wade coming back down, coming back to finish the match. It wasn't supposed to end like this; we were going to win.

"Lizzy!" Dean yelled, getting to his feet. "Get in here. Now."

I turned back to him, blinking. I didn't understand why there were tears in my eyes. Numbly, I climbed up the steps and stepped through the ropes, stopping a foot or so in front of him.

He stared at me for a minute, the small grin dropping off of his face. I looked back at the ramp again, expecting that this time I would see Wade coming back.

He still wasn't there.

Dean grabbed me roughly and pulled me to him. I finally turned and looked at him.

"I warned you," he said in a low voice. "I told you he'd break your heart."

I shoved him away from me, the reality of what had just happened setting in. "You _knew_?" I hissed.

His jaw clenched as he stepped towards me again, pulling me into his arms. "It doesn't matter now. You're mine, sweetheart." He pressed his lips against mine, more in a show of dominance than actual affection.

"You _dick_ ," I growled.

The smile came back to his face. "Now now. You might want to be nice to me, seeing as I own your ass for the next month." He gripped my chin in one of his hands. "And what a month it's gonna be, Lizzy. I hope you're as excited as I am."

I could only shoot him a dirty look; no witty comebacks for me. I was still trying to process what had happened. I was sure Dean and I would have a lot to talk about once we were in private, away from the cameras. So I let him lead me out of the ring, through the curtain to the back. He didn't even stop in the locker room to get his things; he led me out the door and to a rental car.

"All your stuff is in the trunk," he answered my unspoken question. "I had Seth and Roman pack up while we finished the match."

"You planned everything to a T," I replied dryly, climbing into the passenger seat.

"Not me, sweetheart," he replied, shutting my door before coming around and getting in the driver's side. "I'm not the brains of this operation." He glanced over at me. "I...forget it," he muttered, putting his keys in the ignition and starting the car.

We drove to the hotel in silence, where he led me to his room with a firm hand on my back. When we got in, he didn't say anything – he stripped his shirt off and headed for the shower.

I flopped on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. What a night. What a fucking night.

I wondered how long Wade had been planning on stabbing me in the back. I wondered how long Dean had known. I wondered if anything that had passed between myself and each of these men was real at all, or if it had all been part of a larger plan to fuck with me.

While I was wondering all of this, I heard the water in the bathroom stop. I didn't want to deal with him right now, not while I was so unsure of everything that was happening. I quickly pulled my pants off and took off my bra, dropping them in a pile beside the bed, and slid under the covers with my back to the bathroom door.

I'd just made it. I heard the door open and the bathroom light click off. I heard him moving around, but I didn't move.

After a few long minutes, the bed sank behind me and I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I wanted to tell you," he said. "That night in your office. I wanted to tell you so badly, but I couldn't."

"How long had he been planning it?" I asked.

"He and Heyman made the deal the day after you agreed to the match. I don't know what he's getting out of it. Paul wouldn't tell me that."

The bed creaked behind me as he lay down, and I felt the covers lift before draping back over me. He moved a little closer, his bare chest pressed against my back, and stroked the hair out of my face.

"I tried to pin him," he said. "I didn't... I didn't want you to see that he'd... I didn't want you to have to feel this way."

I actually felt my eyes well up. "Thanks," I said quietly.

He cautiously wrapped his arm around my midsection, pulling me closer. I felt his lips on the back of my neck. "I'd do anything to keep you from being hurt. Especially by someone who doesn't deserve you."

My tears finally spilled over, streaking down my cheeks. "I'm glad you think so," I managed to spit out, "but obviously there's just something wrong with me. Every man...it always ends up like this." I shook my head.

Dean turned me around to face him. I tried to avoid his eyes, but he wouldn't let me. "The only thing wrong with you is that you keep choosing the wrong men," he said, taking his thumb and wiping the tears off of my cheeks.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked.

He smiled, shrugging. "Maybe I like you. Maybe I just want to get in your pants. Maybe it kills me a little bit to see you hurting."

I leaned forward and kissed him. There was a lot behind that – his sympathy for me, the fact that he'd tried to stop it, how sweet he was being...and how angry I was with Wade.

He kissed me back, and before long we were tangled up in each other. This time, when he slid his hand into my panties, I did nothing to stop him. He gave a soft groan in my mouth as his fingers brushed against me for the first time, sliding through my wet lips to rub my clit in a circular motion.

I moaned and pressed my hips against him, sliding my own hand down to stroke him. He was already half-hard, and the minute my hand wrapped around him I felt him shudder a little bit. I pumped my hand, slowly at first, and then tried to match the speed of his fingers.

He pulled back from me for a brief minute. "Babe, I'm not..." He shook his head. "I'm gonna blow my load so fast."

I laughed, for the first time tonight, and gripped him a bit more tightly, enjoying his sharp intake of breath. "So I guess you need to decide if you just want me to jerk you off or if you want to fuck me."

He groaned. "I want you so bad...but I don't want to disappoint you. I want to make you cum too."

I kissed him. "Your fingers will still work, won't they?" I teased.

"Christ," he snapped, and before I could say anything else he was on top of me, yanking his boxers down. I pulled my own panties off, and the second they hit the floor Dean rammed himself inside of me.

He paused for a brief minute, his eyes closed, while his thumb found my clit. Then there was absolutely no reprieve – he thrust into me hard, going as deep as he could as fast as he could.

He was right – he didn't last long at all; within three or four minutes I felt him throb and pulse through his final thrusts, filling me while he panted.

He stayed lodged inside of me while his fingers kept working, occasionally thrusting forward a little bit as I began to feel the small tremors that precluded an orgasm radiate from my pelvis.

In another few minutes, I had a small – but satisfying – orgasm, clinging to Dean. He finally slid out of me, bending down to kiss me before resting beside me.

"Told you I'd be disappointing," he said, still trying to catch his breath. "If I'd known that you were actually going to fuck me tonight, I would've jerked off in the shower."

I smiled. "I didn't really expect to do that, either," I admitted. "I guess I just..." I shrugged, uncomfortable. "I just wanted to say thanks for being nice."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him before kissing me. "Don't tell anyone I was nice. I have a reputation to protect."

"Yeah yeah," I yawned, nestling into him.

We were quiet for a long while, Dean's thumb lightly stroking down my arm. "Lizzy?"

"Yeah?" I asked, half-asleep.

"I'm sorry that he hurt you."

I swallowed hard. "You did warn me."

"I did. It doesn't mean that I like seeing you hurt. You really do deserve better."

I leaned up and kissed him. "I've got 'better' right here."


	37. Chapter 37

I woke up alone the next morning, a development for which I was grateful. Last night felt like a terrible dream, and I needed a little while to try to dig through the debris and figure out how I was going to proceed.

The least of the concerns I had, oddly enough, was that I was now unemployed. I had enough money saved to make it at least two months, for which I was grateful. It probably wouldn't be too difficult to find another gig once I was settled back in Stamford.

That left the unpleasant stuff.

Wade was an asshole, first and foremost. I wanted to hear why he'd done it, and then that would be it. I had so many other questions – was any of it real, how long had he been in league with Heyman – but, really, the answers didn't matter. The end result mattered. He'd betrayed me. There wasn't any coming back from that.

That left Dean.

Last night had been...weird. I was used to Dean being weird, but this was...weird even for weird. He'd been so gentle and kind at a time where he really could've rubbed salt in the wound. It should have made me relax, but it was the exact opposite – it made me nervous.

I decided that there wasn't much I could do; I just needed to see what happened now. But I would be cautious. I'd let my guard down way too far last night, and I wasn't sure that was such a smart idea.

All of that thought out, I hauled myself out of bed to take a shower. I was just getting out when I heard the door to the room open. Dean cracked the door to the bathroom and poked his head in, bringing the scent of cigarette smoke with him.

"Good, you're up. We're gonna be leaving in about fifteen minutes."

He shut the door before I could say anything. All right then. I got dressed and walked back out to pack up and put my shoes on. He didn't even acknowledge me.

The rest of the day would go pretty much the same. We rode with Seth and Roman, both of whom were cordial to me while Dean maintained his silence. They dropped me off at the next hotel while they went to search out a gym.

Of course, my luck would dictate that I ran into Wade in the lobby. I briefly thought about ducking behind a potted plant, but he saw me before I could act.

He froze for a second, his eyes wide. "Liz –"

I held up my hand. "Don't." My eyes were doing that weird watering thing again, and I needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

I checked in, praying that he would be gone when I turned around. He wasn't. I ignored him, taking my bags around the corner to the elevator. I just made it through the doors when he rounded the corner. I pounded on the 'close door' button, and mercifully it shut just in time. I hit the button for my floor, looking forward to hiding and having a good cry.

It had unsettled me to see him so unexpectedly. All those decisions I'd made about not needing to know had flown out the window – I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know how he could've done this to me.

The elevator dinged, knocking me out of these thoughts, and as the door slid open Wade stood there, a little out of breath.

"What the hell?" I was genuinely baffled, even as I saw the door marked 'stairs' swing shut in the corner.

"I just want to talk to you," he panted. "I want to explain."

"I don't care," I snarled. "I don't want to hear it."

I walked past him and turned down the hall before he caught up, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. "Damnit Liz, listen to me! Please!"

"Let. Go. Of. Me. Before I kick you in the junk."

"Are you going to stick around and listen to me?" He asked, dropping his hand.

"No." I turned and continued on my way, trying to walk fast before my eyes started leaking. That was the last thing I needed; for him to know how badly this hurt.

"I did it for you," he said from behind me.

I stopped dead in my tracks before turning around slowly to look at him. Standing in the middle of the hall, hands on his hips, he actually looked defeated.

"For me," I said flatly. "You decided to betray and embarrass the fuck out of me for my benefit. You decided to stick me with a man who's had a dangerous obsession with me for months for my fucking benefit. Are you _kidding_?"

He took two steps towards me. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. I fucked him," I snapped. I just wanted to hurt him, and judging by the expression on his face I succeeded. "Are you happy now?"

"No, but I deserve that." He continued towards me. I didn't back up. He cautiously put his hands on my arms. "I know what I did hurt you, but please believe that I had a good reason. It's all going to be clear later on. I know you'll still be upset with what I did, but I hope you'll see that my intentions were noble."

I shook my head. "I don't care about your intentions." To my horror, my voice broke and I felt a few tears slide down my cheeks. "I care that you lied to me and you made me lose...everything. I have nothing now."

He reached up and lightly brushed my tears away, reminding me of Dean and that whole mess. "I know it feels that way now," he said in a low voice. "But I promise...I took everything away to give you something better."

He bent and kissed me, his lips gentle on mine.

"Oh fuck right off with that," a voice snapped behind him. Wade stiffened and pulled away, and I found myself cursing my luck.

Dean was standing behind him, his fists clenched tight. He took a few steps towards us. "Liz," he barked. "Go get in the room. I'll be there in a minute."

I didn't move right away, not until he swung his eyes towards me. I couldn't possibly describe the anger I saw there, and I decided to just nope right the fuck out of this situation.

I walked away without looking back and shut the door behind me, momentarily considering locking the deadbolt before I realized that it would just piss him off more.

Five minutes sitting in that room waiting felt like forever, but I finally heard the electronic beeping that signified that a key card had been accepted in the door.

He walked around the corner and saw me sitting on the bed. "The fuck was that?" He asked, hands on his hips.

"He followed me up from the lobby and wanted to talk to me," I replied dully, not even caring enough to lie.

"Didn't look like much talking."

"You came in at the end of the conversation. Why are you even here?"

"Forgot that my shoes were in my bag, so I came back to get them and walked in on you and that fucking asshole kissing. Do I really need to lay ground rules with you? Do you really not know how I want you to act?"

"No, I don't," I replied, shaking my head. "You and I...had a nice night, and then you spent today ignoring me. I don't know what you want from me."

He sighed, hanging his head before coming to set on the bed next to me. "Listen. Last night was...ok. You were upset and I just wanted you to stop crying. But that's really not me. I'm not your 'someone better,' no matter what you might think."

I turned to look at him, stunned. "But these last few months...that was all you could talk about, how you deserved a chance. Last night you finally proved it and now you're saying...whatever the fuck it is you're saying?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm saying that I don't want you to get the wrong idea. About what this is."

"And what is this, exactly?"

"It's a month for me to fuck you and get you out of my head," he said bluntly.

I made a small noise of disgust in my throat. "I see," I replied, managing to sound calm in spite of the fact that my blood was boiling. "Thanks for setting me straight."

After a moment of contemplation, I stood up and made my way towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Not your concern," I replied, stepping out and letting the door slam behind me.

I made my way back to the elevator bank and punched the button. I was headed down to the bar. If I had any hope of getting through the next few hours without resorting to murder or succumbing completely to despair, I was going to need a few drinks.


	38. Chapter 38

There was only one other patron in the bar when I walked in – not really that surprising, considering it was only one in the afternoon on a Monday.

I stepped up to the bar and sat a respectable two seats away from the other patron. We looked at each other and gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. I hoped that he wouldn't want to have a conversation; I really wasn't in the mood.

The bartender swung by my seat and dropped a coaster. "Seven and seven, please," I said, and watched as she silently went to work. "Thanks," I said, taking a long drink and feeling myself relax marginally.

"Did you fly United, too?" A male voice asked from my right. Goddamnit.

I put a smile on my face and turned to him. "I'm sorry?"

He gave me a grin, a dimple showing up in his right cheek. "Usually when someone comes immediately into a hotel bar and downs half their drink, they've flown United and have either lost their luggage or spent all day in the airport because they missed their connecting flight."

I chuckled. "Not this time," I admitted.

"Lucky." He took a sizable sip of his own drink, keeping an eye on me and a smile on his face.

I found myself genuinely grinning in spite of my terrible mood. He was cute – dark hair, blue eyes, fit, and wearing a suit. My usual type, in other words.

"So how many bags did United lose this time?"

He laughed. "Just the one. I did see the stewardess eyeing my carry-on, though, I think she was trying to find a way to pry it from my hand and send it to Albuquerque." As I laughed, his smile grew wider. "I'm Aaron."

"Liz," I replied. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Liz. Do you need another drink?"

I glanced down at my now two-thirds empty glass. "I shouldn't," I admitted.

Aaron pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah. I was hoping that you needed another drink so _I_ could have another drink."

"Flight was that bad, huh?"

He laughed. "Nah. It really isn't too far from JFK. Not as many opportunities for United to fuck it up."

"They still managed, though."

He nodded, smiling. "They did still manage."

"So what made you brave United to come to Boston?"

He sighed. "That's a long, boring story and the part where I have to admit to you that I'm an attorney and hope you don't hold it against me."

I grinned. "And that's the part where I tell you I'm a CPA and I hope that I don't bore you to death."

He laughed heartily, and I found myself actually enjoying this conversation. Which of course meant that it was about to be ruined.

"Liz," Dean barked from the door. "We have to go. Now."

I could feel my face fall and I saw Aaron's eyebrows crawl up his face before he settled into a neutral expression.

I slid off the bar stool. "I'm sorry about that," I said, feeling my face grow hot.

He shook his head. "No worries. It was great meeting you, Liz."

"It was great meeting you, Aaron."

"Lizzy!"

I closed my eyes and sighed, shaking my head. Aaron looked mildly puzzled. "He really wants his taxes done," I said dryly.

He grinned at me. "The life of a CPA, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Well, if you're ever in need of a somewhat-ok attorney or need someone to bitch about United with..." he reached into his pocket and slid a card across the bar to me. "Give me a call."

A huge smile broke out on my face before I could pull it back. "I just might do that." I took the card and put it in my pocket.

"I hope you do."

"Goddamnit, Liz," Dean snapped, taking three steps into the door. "Let's go."

I shared another look with Aaron before I made my way out, pausing to put a hand on his shoulder. "Have another drink for me. Please."

"Will do."

I made my way towards a glowering Ambrose, feeling my stomach lurch uncomfortably. "What?" I asked, not even able to inject any heat into my voice. Dean grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out the door.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I looked up, surprised, to see Aaron standing and coming towards us. "Don't touch her like that."

Dean dropped my arm. "I don't see how it's any of your business, buddy."

"I'm not your buddy." He took a few more steps towards us. "If you grab her like that again, you'll see just how little I'm your buddy...pal."

He turned his gaze towards me. "Are you ok?"

I nodded. "I am. Thank you."

"I don't have time for this bullshit," Dean snapped, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Let's just go."

Aaron swung his eyes back to me, his eyebrow raised in a silent question. I wanted to tell him no, I wouldn't be fine with Dean...but I also didn't want to drag him into this mess. So I smiled and gave a brief nod.

"Fine," I said to Dean. "Let's go."

He tried to offer me his hand, but I didn't take it. I didn't want to touch him. Instead I walked out ahead of him and into the car where Seth and Roman were waiting.

"Sorry, guys," I said as I sat down and buckled in.

Dean was only a moment behind me, his face red and his fists clenched. I was so used to seeing him like this that it didn't even phase me, except for a vague thought that he was acting like a possessive dick for someone who just wanted to fuck me.

He got in the car and immediately lit up a cigarette. "Let's fucking go," he growled.

I waited until we were a safe distance down the road and Dean stopped staring a hole into the side of my head before I casually reached a hand into my pocket. I ran my fingers over the card, almost to convince myself that it actually existed, and managed a small smile before I caught Dean staring at me again and had to pull it back.

I kept my hand on the card the whole drive, trying to remember that good people did still exist in the world.


	39. Chapter 39

Dean went straight back to ignoring me as we walked into the arena.

Fine. Less than twenty-four hours with him, and I was more sick of his shit than I had been the past few months.

I didn't even bother to wait around to see what would happen; I took off. Normally I'd go and find my office, shut the door, and wait it out – but I no longer had an office to hide in.

So it was time to do some scouting.

I found what I was looking for well away from everyone else, which suited me just fine. It was a small waiting room with a couple of chairs and a leather couch. No door, but I doubted anyone would come by anytime soon.

I flopped on the couch, putting my feet up on the arm rest and covering myself with my jacket. I think my head barely hit the cushion and I was out. After the last day and a half I'd had, it wasn't all that surprising.

I couldn't be sure if I was dreaming or not, but I heard voices and footsteps getting closer to me. Close enough that I could eventually make out what they were saying.

"...for coming all this way on such short notice," Heyman said.

"No problem, really," the other man said. His voice sounded vaguely familiar.

The footsteps stopped briefly outside my door. "Looks like she had a rough night," Heyman said. "Not to be unexpected, I guess. Poor kid."

" _That's_ Elizabeth Moore?"

"In the flesh."

The other guy laughed. "Makes sense now." He actually sounded...relieved, in a way.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it."

The footsteps started up again. The last words I heard were the other man speaking to Paul.

"One thing...next time, could you _please_ not book me on United? Seriously. I'm meeting up with friends tonight and this is what I've got to wear. I'm going to be the laughing stock..."

Then their voices faded away, both physically and mentally as I fell deeper into sleep.

I don't know how much time passed, but eventually I slowly came back to awareness with the uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw Dean sitting in one of the chairs across from me.

"What?" I snapped. I was still in no mood for him.

"Show's about to start."

"Have fun," I mumbled, rolling away from him to face the back of the couch. "Come get me when it's over."

"You need to come with me. Paul wants to see you."

I did my best not to groan or sigh, although I felt like doing both. Instead, I sat up. "I'll be there in a minute. Go ahead. I'm just going to find a bathroom."

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I'll wait."

I shrugged. "Whatever."

I hauled myself off of the couch and stumbled into the hall, yawning. Thankfully, I'd passed the bathroom on my way and knew right where to find it. I took care of my business, washed my hands, and splashed a little cold water on my face for good measure.

Dean was waiting for me when I walked out, leaning against the wall with my jacket draped over his arm. We fell into step in silence, which suited me just fine.

Paul was waiting for us outside of his office. "Liz," he greeted me. "Come on in."

Dean tried to follow me in, but Paul stopped him. Curious.

Dean glared after us, but Paul seemed unmoved – he simply shut the door in his angry face, and I had to suppress a smile.

"Long day, I take it," Paul said as he sat across from me.

I shrugged. "Not much longer than most," I lied. I didn't want to give him any sort of satisfaction over my plight. "What did you want to discuss with me?"

"You really don't like to observe the usual niceties, do you? It's all business."

I shrugged. "No need for niceties that I can see. We're both busy people."

He looked like he had a comment, but he was biting his tongue – not his usual M.O. What the hell was going on here?

"I'll cut to the chase then," he said, clasping his hands on the desk and leaning forward. "I'm going to offer you a job tonight."

"Are you shitting me?" I blurted out before I could think.

He smiled wryly. "No, I am not 'shitting' you."

"Why would you offer me a job?"

He leaned back. "Would you believe me if I said I actually admired you? You handled the situation I forced you in relatively well. I think you have potential. I want to see what you can do."

I could only stare at him, baffled.

"You don't have to answer now, of course. I just didn't want you to be surprised when we went out there."

"Out...there? As in, out to the ring? To do this in public?"

"Correct. There are a few more things that I think you – and everyone else – need to know."

I crossed my arm over my chest. "If I refuse to go out there and be made a fool of?"

He shook his head. "That's not my intention. Not at all. But I can't make you go out there. If you want any sort of explanation for what happened last night, though, you'll want to join me." He stood up and buttoned his jacket. "It's your decision, of course. But hopefully I'll see you out there."

He walked out and left me there, wondering what the hell was happening. I almost decided to stay there out of sheer stubbornness, but my curiosity got the better of me. When Heyman announced me, I came out, walked into the ring, and shook the hand he offered. He gestured me to take a seat across from him at the contract table that had been set up.

He was just lifting the microphone to his lips when Wade's music started. I turned to glare at Heyman, but he looked just as annoyed as I felt.

Heyman met Wade at the ropes and seemed to be trying to talk him out of being there, but Wade shook his head and went behind me to grab another chair. He set it up next to me, uncomfortably close, and I tried to subtly move a few inches further away.

Not to be outdone, as Paul raised the microphone to his lips again, Dean's music hit and he stalked down to the ring. He set up a chair on the other side of me, and I found myself cursing my life.

Paul waited a minute, looking around to see if anyone else would join us. When it became apparent that the parade had ended, Heyman began speaking.

"Last night, Team Heyman left Survivor Series with their hands raised in victory. The hero," he nodded towards Dean, and I kept myself from sneering, "left with the princess. The prince," he nodded towards Wade, "joined the winning team. And the wise old king," he touched his chest, "took his rightful place on the throne. But all was not well in the kingdom, was it Ms. Moore? Because the princess can't stand the unstable hero. She loved the prince, who betrayed her in a most vile way."

Wade reached for my hand and covered it with his. Dean did the same on the other side of me. I yanked my hands away from both of them and clasped my hands in front of me.

"What would you like me to say, Paul?" I asked. "Yes, I was involved with Mr. Barrett. Yes, he betrayed me. No, I don't particularly care for Dean Ambrose, and I sincerely doubt that I ever will."

Heyman smiled. "Like all good fairy tales, Ms. Moore...this one needs to have a happy ending. To that end, let me explain what Mr. Barrett's betrayal," he paused and opened a folder in front of him, pulling out a packet of paper, "has earned you."

Dean seemed to perk up with interest beside me. This was new to him. He tried to look over my shoulder as Heyman pushed the papers towards me.

"This is a contract. The terms of which are very simple – if you sign it, you'll become my assistant. No more unemployment for you, and no...conflicts of interest if you should choose to pursue a relationship with any of your co-workers, as they will not be your direct subordinates."

Wade glanced over at me. So that explained that.

"In addition," Heyman continued, "this contract supersedes all others. Meaning...that the contract you signed for Survivor Series is null and void, and your time with Mr. Ambrose is at an end the moment you sign it."

My heart stopped for a moment before leaping into action. Oh my God. I could stop all this.

Dean had the realization at around the same time I did.

"What?" He growled. "Tell me you're not serious."

Heyman raised a hand to silence Dean, but that didn't work. Dean stood up and flipped the table. I scrambled away from him as quickly as possible, but Wade was already standing and ready to beat the tar out of him if he did anything else.

Still, I wasn't going to take any chances – not after how he'd been acting today. I made my way out of the ring before diving back in and frantically searching for the contract. Dean got his hand on it a split second before I did, and our eyes met.

I have no idea why he did it, but he held tightly for a brief second before letting it go so quickly that I nearly fell over. I backed away from him and rolled out of the ring, clutching the papers to my chest as if they might save my life.


	40. Chapter 40

I didn't stick around to see what kind of carnage was going to result from this utterly unexpected development – I booked it, passing Lesnar and the rest of the Shield guys on my way to the back. They, thankfully, didn't pay me any attention, their entire focus on keeping Dean from killing Heyman.

I actually didn't know where to go for a split second after I made it away from all the chaos. Then, there was a strong hand wrapped around my arm and I found myself nearly yanked out of my shoes as I was pulled forward.

I managed to get my bearings after a minute and looked up to see Wade, his expression dark as he pulled me along to Paul's office.

"Bloody lunatic," he growled. "Are you all right, love?"

I think it was him calling me 'love' that snapped me out of my stupor. I pulled my arm away from him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks and stare at me for a moment.

"This doesn't change anything," I said, feeling my brow furrow.

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips and nodding as he stared at the floor. "Do you at least understand –"

"Of course I understand; I'm not an idiot," I interrupted. "You didn't like that I couldn't decide, so you decided for me. In the process, you humiliated me in front of practically the entire world and threw me to Ambrose. Now you expect me to come crawling to you, kiss your feet, and tell you how _grateful_ I am? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

He bit his lip, having the good sense to look ashamed. "I thought it would fix everything."

"You thought wrong." Later I might feel bad for him, but right now I was too pissed off. "I'm not someone who needs to be taken care of; I'm not someone who can't handle making my own decisions. You crossed the line in a very, very big way – and I can barely look at you without wanting to punch you for how you've treated me."

His eyes went dark for a moment before he pulled the emotion out of his face. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he replied, his tone clipped as he tried to hold back his anger.

"Me too," I bit back, stepping away from him. "Just do me one last favor – and this is actually a favor, not what you perceive will 'fix everything' – stay the hell away from me for awhile. I don't think I can handle any more of your help."

I stalked off and almost entered Paul's office before I realized it wasn't mine. I didn't want to deal with anyone else until I looked at this contract in-depth, so I turned at the last second and made my way back towards the little out-of-the-way room with the couch. I'd worked in worse places.

I made it halfway through my initial skim of the contract when Dean bust through the door, bleeding from a cut under his eye.

I didn't have time to say anything; he crossed the room in two long strides, planted his hands on the back of the couch and leaned down to kiss me thoroughly.

I let him kiss me for a minute out of sheer shock before I yanked back from him. "What the hell are you doing?"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "Let's go. Let's get out of here. Just you and me. Let's spend the rest of the night in bed."

He leaned down to try and kiss me again, and I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. "You really think that's going to work with me? After you've been a walking fucking nightmare today? I'm not going anywhere with you."

His shoulders slumped. "Look, I'm...sorry..."

I shook my head. "No, you're not. And that's all right. That's actually fucking normal for you, not being sorry. It might be the first normal thing you've done today."

He stared at me for a minute, his expression entirely neutral. "What do you want me to say, Lizzy?"

"I want you to tell me just what the fuck you were..." I stopped and shook my head. "No. I don't even care what you were thinking. I don't give a flying fuck about any of this. I don't want you to say a word. I want you to turn around, walk out of here, and leave me the fuck alone."

His lip curled up in a half-smile. "And you really think I'm going to do that?"

I actually clenched my fists and screamed out of sheer frustration. "What the hell is your deal?! Do me a favor; make up your fucking mind about what you want from me and act accordingly. Until you do that, get out of my face and leave me the hell alone."

I stalked out of the room, contract still clenched in my fist. I just needed ten minutes along with this fucking thing – and it didn't seem like this was the place I was going to get that.

So I did the only thing I could do – I walked out of the arena, walked two blocks down to a coffee shop, ordered a latte and parked it in an armchair.

One way or another, I was going to figure this contract out tonight. It didn't necessarily mean I was going to make a decision tonight – I wanted to leave Dean, obviously, but I also didn't want to back myself into a corner and be stuck with Heyman.

I'd almost made it through the stilted language when a hand fell on my shoulder. I jumped and spilled my drink all over my sweater.

"Sorry about that," Aaron said, a sheepish grin on his face. "There goes my smooth opening line of how we need to stop meeting like this."

I managed to smile, somehow, in spite of all of the chaos of the past hour and the fact that he'd scared the absolute bejesus out of me. "And there goes my smooth impression of not wearing half of my latte...so I guess we're even."

He reached behind him and grabbed me a few napkins, which I took and began blotting at my shirt. "Thanks."

"It didn't burn you, did it?"

"Nah, I've been here for a bit. It's gone from lava hot to tropical spring hot. Definitely more manageable."

He laughed. "So I'm an idiot. Let me buy you another drink."

"That's all right, really."

"I insist. It'll give me a few minutes to go be embarrassed somewhere else before I come back and make a nice recovery."

I smiled, more genuinely this time, and finally agreed. He came back not only with two steaming cups, but also a green t-shirt draped over his arm, which he handed to me. "Least I could do after I wrecked your sweater. Now you'll have a souvenir to remind you of the day some weird guy chased you down to a coffee shop."

I laughed. "Chased me down, huh?" I asked, taking my cup and thanking him. "Any particular reason why?"

He sat across from me. "A few reasons. Professional and personal, which is kind of rare."

I raised an eyebrow. "Professional reasons? Are you actually a bounty hunter? Has my mysterious past finally caught up with me?"

He laughed, showing off his dimples again. "I've been found out," he teased. "Are you going to run?"

I looked down at my mostly-full new latte. "I'd hate to wreck two shirts in one night."

"Fair enough."

I sighed. "So, professional reasons."

"Yes," he nodded towards the papers that were now sitting on the small table between us. "I thought you might want some help deciphering that contract."

I raised an eyebrow. "How...?"

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're Elizabeth Moore. I'm Aaron Delaney. I represent Paul Heyman, and I wrote your contract."


	41. Chapter 41

I think I surprised him by bursting out laughing. After the last few days, it was just the cherry on top of my shit sundae.

"Of course you are," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. "That's just how my life seems to go."

He gave me a cautious smile. "If it's any consolation, I had no idea who you were when we met earlier today."

I wasn't sure I believed him entirely. Paul had a way of getting what he wanted...and it all just seemed a little too _convenient_ , him being in the bar after Dean had been an asshole, Dean dragging me away, Aaron standing up for me...only to reappear here, now, to tell me what a great deal this contract was.

"So how did you find out who I was?"

"When I met with Paul at the arena – we had to add a few last minute clauses – we ended up walking by the room where you were sleeping." His smile became more genuine. "I recognized you, and Paul told me who you were."

I had vague recollections of two men talking, remembering pieces of their conversation. I laughed. "I thought I dreamt that," I admitted. "I remember hearing you."

"Already dreaming about me, huh?" He teased. "I was surprised to see you, obviously, but relieved."

"Relieved?" I asked, tilting my head.

"I was worried after you left with that guy. I didn't know if you were safe. I spent most of the afternoon wondering why all the pretty ones decided to stay with complete and utter assholes. It was nice to hear it was all part of a bizarre contract you signed to make men fight so you could try to keep your job."

I laughed. "It was a bizarre contract, that's for sure." I shook my head. "I really don't know what I was thinking."

"If I know Paul – and I'd like to think I do, after ten years – I would say that he probably made it so you didn't have the chance to think; you just had to act. And you did what you thought was best."

I smiled. "When you put it that way...I could kiss you for making me sound reasonable."

He actually blushed. It was adorable. No. Focus, Liz.

"So...do you want me to walk you through this new contract, in plain English instead of lawyer-speak?"

I hesitated, and he picked up on the reason immediately. "You'd rather not. I understand completely," he said, interrupting my feeble attempt at a protest. "Paul likes to create this aura where you never know what to expect, like he has a million secret agents working for him at all times. You're not sure if I fall into that category or not."

I paused. "You have a real way with words, you know that?"

He laughed heartily. "Why thank you. Just let me tell you two things before I drop talk of this contract and start making fumbling conversation where I sound like a complete idiot and tank your opinion of me. First, it's pretty fair. There aren't any hidden traps. You could sign the contract, get rid of that idiot, and quit a week later without penalty. Second, and maybe more importantly, Paul is actually pretty genuine. He was impressed by you. I've drawn this thing up four times, and each time he seemed more exasperated by you and how you kept foiling his plans for world domination."

"I do like to spoil world domination plans," I admitted. "Thanks for being so forthcoming. It's a breath of fresh air for me."

He nodded, grinning. "I'd gathered as much. You've had a rough couple of months, what with all the intrigue and international covert operations."

"Hence why I thought my past had finally caught up with me. This was my last operation."

"It always happens when you're about to retire," he agreed, taking a sip of his drink.

"Two days from retirement," we said at the same time before laughing.

Son of a bitch. I liked him on a personal level. He seemed like a cool guy. Nothing good would come from that.

"So I see United never found your bag," I said, nodding towards his suit.

He shook his head. "Probably in Alaska at this point...and I'm going to meet up with a group of old college buddies at a sports bar in a few. I'm going to get my ass handed to me."

That moved the conversation to more personal level, and I found out that he was originally from California, had played football in college, and met Paul initially when he was interning with a firm in New York during law school.

"So what about you?" He asked, rolling his empty cup between his hands. "How did you end up here?"

I laughed. "I walked from the arena," I teased. "But before that...I grew up in New York – the country upstate, not the city. Went to community college for a few years before transferring to the state university. Worked as a CPA for a few years in a small operation up there, and then saw an opening with WWE. I thought it was kind of cool, honestly, so I applied...and here I am."

He grinned. "You're missing a few steps there at the end. How did you go from number-crunching monkey to running the show?"

I laughed at the memory. "I'd had a rough night and one of the bosses – Stephanie McMahon – questioned my numbers. I kind of went off about how terrible everything was on the show. She asked what I would do differently. Apparently, I gave a pretty good answer."

"Impressive," he replied. "From what I've heard..."

"I absolutely should've been fired," I finished. "I still don't know why I wasn't, but I'm glad. It was a cool opportunity."

"Definitely," he agreed. "And it isn't necessarily over yet."

I shrugged. "We'll see. I've had a long couple of months."

"It sounds like it. If I'm not prying too much," he leaned forward, "can I ask...how...?"

I laughed. "How did all of this craziness happen?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

I sighed. "So. Rough night translates to finding out that my long-term boyfriend had a short-term girlfriend. A few weeks later, after I started the job, I met Wade. He surprised the hell out of me one night by grabbing me and kissing me at my hotel door, and after a few stop-and-starts related to my position as his boss we decided to give a relationship a shot. Dean, in the meantime, had decided that he didn't hate me as previously assumed and was, in fact, apparently interested in me. He saw Wade and I, got jealous, and we were off to the races. More or less."

He took a minute to process before shaking his head. "Definitely a rough couple of months," he agreed.

"You can feel free to run screaming at any point. I know I would like to."

He shook his head. "Nah. I don't scare that easily. In fact, it all makes more sense."

"I'm glad it makes sense to one of us."

"I'm not in it like you are. It makes it easier to see when you have a little bit of distance from the situation."

"And what do you see?" I asked, realizing it was kind of a loaded question.

He smiled. "I see a beautiful, intelligent woman who has worked hard to get to where she is. I see that she's hurting more than she cares to admit from all of these betrayals from really stupid guys, and so she decided that spending a month with someone who was completely different might not be a bad idea...only it was. Now she feels like she's stuck and has no idea what to do."

It was a punch in the gut. "You're good," I admitted.

"Sometimes I really wish that I wasn't," he said. "Because I would really, really like to ask you to have dinner with me some night, but I know that it won't go anywhere because you're still in the middle of all of this. And I'm not willing to just have one dinner with you and have you forget about me."

My heart sank.

"If it's any consolation," I replied, trying to choose my words carefully, "I think you are...phenomenal. I hate how much I like you already, to be honest. But you're right, and it wouldn't be fair to you."

He nodded. "Hey, that's all I can ask for from you – honesty. Besides," he stood up, "we'll always have coffee and two days until retirement."

I smiled and stood up myself. "And I'll always have a souvenir," I replied, gesturing towards my shirt. "Thank you for being the good part of the last few days. I'll never, ever forget that."

He smiled. "If anything changes...give me a call, all right?"

"I will," I agreed. I watched him walk out the door. If he looked back, I told myself, I would...do...something. If he looked back at me, it meant that maybe there was something there.

He looked back and waved.

I didn't think. I ran out the door and caught him just before he was going to cross the street. "Aaron, wait a second!"

He turned, surprise and relief on his face. I grabbed him and kissed him. I immediately felt little fireworks of joy going off in my head. I think maybe he did, too, because he looked stunned when I pulled back.

"I'll call you," I said, "when things are a little more steady. I'm not saying wait around or anything, because that's so not fair –"

He interrupted me by kissing me again, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I was a bit breathless when he pulled back, a wide smile on his face.

"Call anytime. Day or night." He squeezed me. "I really, really look forward to it."

We said goodbye again, and I stood on that corner for a few minutes with a dumb smile on my face. It had been a very long time since I'd felt this way about someone, and I couldn't believe that it happened now...of all the freaking times in my life when I could've met someone, it was when I was tangled up in such a mess.

I turned and began walking to the hotel, wrapping my arms around myself to keep out the cold.

A hand came and caught the scruff of my neck. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?" Dean growled in my ear. "Five minutes and you're already off kissing some other guy. I'm surprised you're not fucking him."

I yanked away from him and glared in his direction. Of course he'd ruin my awesome night. Of course he would.

"Just leave me alone, all right?"

He shook his head. "No."

"What? What is it now? You want to fuck me, you want to ignore me, you want to call me a slut and you expect me to...what? What do you want?"

"I want you," he said, reaching for me. I pulled back.

"Yeah, well, that's just too bad, because I am in no fucking mood for you."

"I can change that," he said, stepping towards me and trying to put his arms around me.

"Not tonight you can't," I snapped.

"Why? Because you met the love of your life on a fucking street corner in Boston?"

"Maybe I did," I bit back.

His face dropped and he went silent for a long moment.

"I don't need this shit," he muttered, turning and walking away. The mean, nasty part of me hoped he wouldn't come back.


	42. Chapter 42

I made a quick phone call when I got back to the hotel to an acquaintance from my previous life who worked in contract law. She agreed to take a look at this awful piece of paper hanging over my head, so I faxed her a copy and asked her to email me the particulars and her opinion.

Then I went upstairs, took a shower, and crawled into bed. I turned the TV on for a short while before giving up and going to dig Aaron's card out of my pocket.

There it was – Aaron Delaney, of Delaney, Howell, and Goodermote, PLLC. It listed his office phone number and email, but not much else. So I did what any red-blooded American female does in the this day and age – I googled the hell out of him.

Everything actually seemed to check out with what he'd told me, but that didn't mean too much – if he was going to lie, he'd weave in mostly truths so it would be easier to remember.

I put it all on the back burner for now. I needed to worry about my immediate future. I had a job offer to work for a man who'd done nothing but undermine and sabotage me for the past few months, and that seemed like a good offer because he dangled the carrot of me being able to escape Dean.

Dean...who I had no fucking idea what to do about, or what his deal was. The first night had been nice in a very strange sort of way, and since then it had just all gone to hell for no reason that I could see.

Almost as if thinking about him summoned him, I heard his key in the door. I glanced at the clock – only a little after ten at this point; he must've been sent away after the debacle earlier tonight.

I didn't want to deal with him, but I thought maybe I had to. I had to know what was going on; there was no way to avoid it any longer.

He seemed to have the same idea, because he came in and sat on the bed beside me. I decided to wait him out and let him lead the conversation. Frankly, I'd had enough of trying to be the reasonable one today.

"You really think that dude might be the love of your life?" He asked flatly, staring down at his hands.

I bit back my sarcastic response. That just didn't seem to work well as of late. Instead, I shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't know him well enough."

He looked over at me, his face troubled in a muted sort of way. "Are you going to leave me?"

I nodded. "Yes, eventually. But not tonight."

He pursed his lips. "I can't stand that thought. I don't understand why, but I can't stand the idea of you being gone."

I froze for a split second before I continued on. "You can't keep me here."

He shook his head. "I know that. I hoped...what I wanted... It doesn't matter."

"Yes," I said firmly. "It does. Enough of this. Please. I am exhausted. Just tell me what's going on, all right?"

He looked away again. "I feel so weird when it comes to you," he admitted. "I want you. And I don't mean that I want to just fuck you. I want...I want you to be happy. I hate to see you angry or upset. And that's all right, I think that's part of being a normal human being. But the hard part for me is that I want to see you happy because of me...and that when you're angry or upset because of me I don't take any kind of joy in it. I kind of hate myself for it, in fact."

"So why have you been such a dick?"

"Because I have no idea how to handle this. Not even a single clue. The thought of you leaving absolutely kills me, but I can't stop trying to push you away from me so I stop feeling like this. I just want to be who I was, and I don't think I can do that with you. So I push. Then the idea of you leaving...it actually hurts, so I pull. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, Lizzy."

He rested his head against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. "This was supposed to be easy. I was going to get close to you and break your heart. I'm good at that, you know – breaking women's hearts. Once you told me about your ex, I figured I could worm my way in just by virtue of being completely different. But instead I'm sitting here genuinely fucking worried that you're going to walk out the door, and there's no way I can stop you from doing it."

I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. "What do you mean that you were going to break my heart?"

He sighed. "You always wondered what I wanted from you, and why I wanted it. There you go. It was all revenge. You're not a guy, so I couldn't knock your teeth down your throat. Nothing else seemed like it was enough. So I decided that I would make you love me and then I'd wreck you."

I blinked a few times. "What was this revenge for, exactly?"

"Breaking my arm. Taking Paul's job. Take your pick, honestly, I think I just wanted to hurt you. Any old reason would have worked."

He glanced over at me and put his hand on my leg. I did my best not to move away, even though my skin crawled where he touched me.

"So when did that change?" I asked carefully. I wasn't entirely convinced it had.

"That night in San Antonio." That was much more recent than I expected. "When you said you might walk away and leave it all behind. I was genuinely angry with you, an irrational anger that beat at my temples and didn't make a bit of goddamn sense to me." He shook his head. "And it was because of Barrett. Fucking Barrett. You were going to leave me for him." He squeezed my leg. "I couldn't believe it, and I had to do something about it."

"So that's where this ridiculous stipulation of a month came from?"

He nodded. "I figured if I stepped it up a bit, I could make you fall in love with me. Then at the end, I could dump your unemployed ass and laugh all the way down the road. Joke's on me, though."

"Why's that?"

He laughed bitterly. "Because you're going to leave. And when you do, you're going to care about me even less than you did when this all started. On top of that," he let go of me and slid off the bed. "On top of all of fucking that, you're going to take a job where I see you pretty much every day. You're going to be fucking that lawyer or Barrett or someone else, and I'm going to have to sit there and watch you fall in love with them. Maybe I deserve that. But goddamnit, it's not what I want." He turned and looked at me for a long moment. I had no idea what to say in response.

"I wanted you to love me, Lizzy. I didn't want to love you. Do you know how infuriating it is to have the opposite of that situation?"


	43. Chapter 43

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. "What...?"

"I think I love you," he repeated flatly, sitting on the other bed and staring down at the floor. "And it's pissing me off."

I sat in stunned silence, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up the back of my neck. No way. This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake.

"Dean," I said, as gently as possible, "that can't be right."

"Oh it can't?" He snapped. "Do you think I'm saying this for shits and giggles? Do you think I like this any more than you do?"

I shook my head. "Listen," I said, trying hard to keep my patience. "You and I hardly know each other. We've been around each other for...what, six months now? And most of that time we were at each others' throats. What you're feeling now is...is...infatuation, at best. And that passes."

He stared at me, his jaw set and his eyes hard. "Infatuation," he repeated.

I nodded. "Infatuation," I confirmed firmly.

His shoulders dropped, and he looked relieved. "I think you're probably right."

"Oh thank God," I said, letting out a long breath.

Then, amazingly, we both started laughing.

"I bet that's the first time in your life you've been happy to hear that a man _wasn't_ in love with you," Dean said, still chuckling.

"You seem to do that to me a lot, flip the situation on it's head," I agreed. "Are you done being an asshole now?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry about that."

I waved my hand in a 'no big deal,' gesture, even though it had been a big deal. If it meant that he wasn't going to continue being ridiculous and telling me he loved me, I could've probably waved nearly anything off at that moment.

"Do you want me to make it up to you?"

I met his eyes and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. He grinned before standing up, stretching, and bending down to kiss me.

I think it was partially that I was still stunned by his admission and partially that I was relieved when he took it back, but I let him push me down on the bed and climb on top of me.

"What are you doing?" I asked when he took his mouth off of mine and began kissing my neck.

He laughed. "I might not love you, but I'm still one jealous son-of-a-bitch. I want to fuck you so hard that you forget that guy's name."

"Oh? And what makes you think...ohhh." My sarcastic response was cut off as he lifted my shirt and began sucking on my nipple.

"Are we really going to play that?" He asked in a low voice, his fingers stroking over my breasts. "After everything, are you going to try and tell me that you don't want me?" He slid a hand down and lightly brushed his fingers over my panties. My hips moved towards him of their own volition.

"Don't lie to me, Lizzy," he said. "It's been one long goddamn day, and tomorrow doesn't look like it'll be much better. So let's fuck." His fingers slid in my panties, his other hand squeezing my breast. "We'll both feel better."

It didn't take me long to make a decision. I reached for his belt, ignoring the smirk that came over his face. I didn't need to like him in order to fuck him, and he was right – tonight I could really use a little stress relief.

We didn't play coy or mess around – we both stripped out of our clothes in record time. Dean, ever the gentleman and so subtle, shoved my head down to his crotch. I obliged him and began sucking his cock, hoping that he wouldn't take too long to get hard and we could get this over with.

He sighed happily and pumped his hips up, one hand coming to brush my hair out of my face so he could watch his dick sliding between my lips. After a few long minutes of watching me, he grabbed my hips and began pulling them over towards his face.

I caught on to what he wanted and straddled his face, taking a moment to enjoy those first few seconds of his tongue running over my aching, swollen flesh before sighing and returning to my work with renewed vigor.

It went on for a long while, until I noticed Dean's thighs tensing, his balls drawing up closer to his dick.

I pulled off of him, ignoring his groan of protest and sitting up on his face so that he had no choice but to keep going, unless he wanted to throw me off of him.

"Get me off first," I said, my voice a little strained. "And then you can cum."

I stared down, watching his tongue and chin as he continued to work, which was strange at first but oddly erotic. He reached up and held my breasts while he changed his technique to include long, unbroken strokes of his tongue. My hips rocked against his face, and just as I was about to have my orgasm he stopped.

My cry of protest was cut off as he finally threw me off of him, shoving me onto my back and climbing between my thighs.

"Do you really think," he growled, thrusting into me savagely, "that you can tell me when I'm going to cum? Hmm?" He punctuated these questions with rough thrusts. I couldn't have answered even if I wanted to; my eyes were rolling in the back of my head and all of the pressure and aching in my pelvis seemed maddening.

"P...please...oh God, please," I managed to spit out.

"Please what, Lizzy? Please what?"

"Please let me...make me...oh fuck," I groaned as his fingers lightly brushed my clit and then immediately pulled away.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes!"

"Are you ever going to tell me what to do again?"

"No," I practically sobbed. "No, never."

"Are you ever going to try and tell me how I feel ever again?"

I barely knew what he was saying. "No," I panted.

"I don't think you mean it," he said, ramming his cock into me again. "I don't think you're paying attention." He pulled completely out of me and stared down at me, a wicked grin on his face. "Do you want me to finish licking your little pussy for you?"

"Please, yes, please."

"Then say it with me – 'it's not just infatuation.'"

I stared up at him, dumbfounded once more – right until he reached down and began lightly stroking my clit. Then I lost all reason.

"Say it, Lizzy. Say it."

"It's...it's not...oh christ, right there...it's not infatuation," I spat.

He immediately ducked down and began sucking on my clit, teasing his tongue over it as I had the most intense orgasm of my life.

Without a word, once I had started to come down, he knelt between my thighs and rammed into me again. I whimpered and clung tightly to him, riding the waves of my orgasm while he drove his cock into me as hard as he could.

Finally, his arms shaking, he had his own orgasm before collapsing on top of me. We were both panting, sweating messes, but we stayed that way for a long while. I felt him gradually shrink and slip out of me, but he stayed on top of me, occasionally kissing my neck or cheek.

He put one last kiss on my lips before he hauled himself off of me and instead went to lay beside me.

"What was that about?" I asked carefully as I slid under the covers.

He shook his head, already half asleep. "What was what about?"

"The whole 'it's not infatuation' thing."

He half-grinned. "Oh Lizzy. I was messing with you. I can't stand it when you're right. So I thought I'd make you pay." He turned his head to look at me. "I didn't think you'd mind the price of admission once I made you cum so hard you saw stars."

I shook my head, but I was smiling in spite of myself. "You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?"

"I know," he said, taking my chin in one hand and pulling my face towards his for another kiss. This one was much more thorough and intense. "Just remember, darlin'...you don't tell me what to do. Next time I won't be so nice about reminding you."


	44. Chapter 44

I woke up warm and comfortable, wrapped in the soft sheet with Dean's arm flung over my waist. He was still snoring quietly behind me. I waited a few minutes to see if he would wake up, but when he didn't I carefully dislodged myself from him and made my way to the bathroom.

I stepped into the shower and let the warm water run over my aching muscles. It had been a long time since I'd been this sore.

While I shampooed my hair, I decided that I was done trying to analyze everything that had happened since the match ended Sunday. It had been an absolutely insane twenty-four hours, but it was over now. There was no sense in looking back; I just needed to move forward – hopefully a little bit wiser than before.

Dean was still out cold when I went back into the room to get dressed. I decided to step out for a few minutes, partially out of being restless in general and partially because I thought it'd be creepy to just sit and watch him sleep.

It was early enough that Boston was still kind of quiet, the sun just starting to hit the frosty pavement. I walked a few blocks aimlessly, not stopping until I was in front of the coffee shop that had been the scene of my unexpected meeting with Aaron last night.

I debated internally for a few minutes before going in and ordering a cup of coffee. I also bought one of the shirts on sale, a blue one that had the same logo as the green one he'd bought me last night. I guessed at the size, hoping it would at least be close. There was a post office at the end of the block.

I looked up the address to his firm as I walked and tried to think of what I could possibly say. 'Thanks for saving my night'? 'Thanks for dealing with the crazy; promise I won't make you wait too long'?

It wasn't until I was leaning on the little island in the post office, an overpriced blank card in front of me, that I settled on 'Just in case United runs into issues shipping your stuff back from Alaska.'

I addressed the equally overpriced brown mailer envelope to Aaron Delaney, care of Delaney, Howell, and Goodermote, PLLC and shoved the shirt inside. Before I could change my mind, I mailed it off and walked out the door.

I went back to the hotel after about a half hour of wandering, my cheeks and nose red and my coffee finally finished. Dean was just hauling himself out of bed when I walked in the room, still looking groggy and grumpy. He grunted an acknowledgment in my direction before making his own way to the shower.

"Where did you go this morning?" He asked a short while later, coming out with his hair still dripping and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Needed coffee," I replied.

"Nice of you to offer."

I rolled my eyes. "You would've bitched me out if I woke you up. Why are you still being an asshole?"

He sighed, pausing in his search through his bag for a shirt. "I'm in a mood," he admitted.

"No shit. Why?"

"Would you believe that Paul's making me apologize tonight? Publicly?"

It wasn't the smartest thing, but I started laughing. "You deserve it," I said as he glared at me. "That's why you don't try to strangle your boss."

He raised an eyebrow and grunted before going back to digging through his suitcase for clothes. I took that to mean that he agreed, but didn't want to say as much.

In spite of his mood, the rest of the morning was actually pretty easy – although compared to the last few days, I'm pretty sure neurosurgery would've seemed easy. Everyone, for a change, was cordial. There wasn't any drama.

It was nice. While it lasted.

"Come on, sunshine." Those were the words that were going to wreck my night. I just didn't know it yet.

I looked up questioningly at Dean. "It's time for my apology," he said.

"Have fun?"

He grinned, but there was no amusement in the expression. "You're coming with me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling you that you are. Let's get a move on."

The last thing I wanted was to be dragged out in front of the crowd again, but I also didn't want to get into it with him – not when we were teetering on the edge of things being ok. So I took the hand he offered and allowed him to keep a tight hold on me while we walked down to the ring.

Dean flung an arm around my neck, pulling me uncomfortably close, and began speaking.

"I'm being told that I have to _apologize_ ," he snarled.

This...was not a great start.

"Can you believe that? Me? Apologize?" He shook his head. "I'm not the one who went behind Paul Heyman's back and tried to undo a contract _we agreed to_ ahead of time. I'm not the one who secretly brought on Wade Barrett and broke poor Lizzy's heart," he lightly stroked a hand over my cheek, and I fought back the urge to slap him.

"And yet...and yet! Flip one table, and you're told that you need to come out and grovel." He paused. "I was never good at groveling."

"Dean..." I said, closing my eyes and shaking my head. This was not a smart move.

"What, Lizzy?" He snapped, tightening the arm wrapped around my neck. "Do you have something to say, sweetheart?"

I shook my head. Let him dig his own grave.

"As I was saying, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," he continued. "there are apologies to be made. I apologize to Paul Heyman for not snapping his neck and finishing the job. I apologize to Wade Barrett for not breaking his nose again. And to my little Lizzy..." He grabbed my chin and yanked my head around to face him. "I apologize for all of the things I'm going to do to you because those two idiots are trying to take you from me."

He dropped the microphone and bent to kiss me, his lips hard on mine. I tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip and pulled me closer.

Finally, once his point was made, he backed away. "That was really fucking stupid," I hissed. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I'm getting really fucking tired of people trying to take what's mine. I'm getting really fucking tired of _your_ bullshit, with all the back-and-forth – you want me; you don't want me. You hate me; I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you.." He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back. "And you know, I'm thinking that things are going to change now. Whether you want them to or not."


	45. Chapter 45

I kept quiet while he dragged me to the back by my elbow. He wasn't going to be reasoned with; not right now.

Seeing an incredibly red-faced Paul Heyman waiting for us, I realized that I might be the only person Dean dealt with regularly that understood this about him.

"Are you _insane_?" He barked as he saw us approaching.

Dean tightened his grip on me. I let out a small squeak of protest and tried to pull my arm away. He held on, but let up a little bit.

"No," he replied slowly. "I'm not insane, Paul. Here's where we stand – you find a way to keep little Miss Lizzy here with me, and I'll apologize. If you keep trying to fuck me over, you're going to find out just how...insane...I really am."

He began dragging me towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Paul asked from behind us.

"I'm done for the night," Dean snapped. "Liz and I are going home."

I was smart enough to keep quiet until we got back to the hotel room – I could tell that he was still fuming, chain smoking from the moment we left the arena until we walked into the hotel lobby, and then lighting up again when we walked into the room.

"Take your clothes off," he growled around his cigarette.

"Excuse me?"

He shot me a look. "Don't play dumb, Lizzy. Take your clothes off."

"Why?"

"Oh Christ," he grumbled, taking a few steps towards me and reaching out to unbutton my pants. "I want to fuck you, Elizabeth. Get naked."

I stepped back. "So you think just because you want to fuck, I'm going to drop my panties for you?"

He smirked. "Yeah, actually."

"And just what in the holy hell makes you believe that?"

"Let's not play games, all right?" He said, sitting on the bed and pulling his boots off. "I want you. You want me. So take your goddamn clothes off and let's fuck."

I shook my head. "You know what, I'm really not in the mood."

"I can fix that," he said without even looking up, focused instead on unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want you to _fix_ it," I snapped. He finally looked up. "You just went and told the whole world you were going to _hurt me_. This after you made my life miserable for six months. This after you decided to try and tank not only your career, but whatever one I might have left. Now you expect me to just strip down and jump on your dick?"

He pursed his lips. "Pretty much, yeah."

I scoffed. "You are ridiculous."

He stared at me for a minute. "So are you going to fuck me or not?"

"No!" I exploded. "No, I am not going to fuck you. Christ."

He sighed heavily and bent down to pull his boots back on. I watched him quietly, wondering what he was going to do now. When he headed towards the door, I couldn't take it any more.

"Where the fuck are you going?" I asked just as he reached out to turn the handle.

"You don't want to fuck me, and that's fine," he said without turning around. "But I want to fuck, and I'm going to find someone who's willing."

"Have fun," I replied, flopping on the bed and pulling off my own shoes. "And go back to her room."

He paused. I expected a wiseass remark, but instead he just opened the door and walked out.

I let out an exasperated scream and flopped back down on the bed. I was only slightly agitated for my own sake, honestly. No matter what he'd said, I realized that he wouldn't actually hurt me. It had just been absolutely maddening to see him publicly tank his own career because he didn't know when to swallow his pride and just make the fucking apology.

He was stubborn and ridiculous and entirely infuriating. I could never be with someone like that.

I paused. Where had that come from? 'Being with' Dean wasn't exactly on the table. Why did it matter that he was all wrong for me? Or that he drove me crazy? Furthermore, why the hell did I care what he was doing with his career? It was none of my business.

My phone began ringing next to me. I glanced down and saw that Paul Heyman was calling. Great.

I picked it up cautiously, wondering if he was still as pissed off as he'd been when we left.

"Is Dean with you?" He asked.

"No. He just stepped out."

"Good. I want you and I to have a meeting tomorrow with my attorney. We're going to make a few...changes...to the contract I offered you."

"Why not just yank it off the table entirely?" I asked, suspicious.

"Because I'm not going to let...Dean," oh, he'd wanted to say something nasty there; it wasn't hard to tell, "dictate whether or not you come to work for me. There's a solution somewhere. We just need to find it."

"If you say so," I replied, my skepticism obvious in my voice.

"Trust me; we can make this work."

"Trusting you is a pretty big ask. It seems even your own friends can't do that."

He fell silent. I'd gotten him with that one.

"Tomorrow," he finally said. "Let's shoot for ten. I'm in room six-ten."

"I'll see what I can do," I replied before hanging up abruptly. I'd had enough for one night.

I set my phone down and wearily rubbed my eyes before picking it back up and quickly shooting an email off to the friend I was having look over the first contract. I told her to hold off on reviewing this version; a new one might be coming down the pike.

Then I turned my phone on silent and collapsed. Fully-clothed and on top of the blankets, I passed out cold...only to be awoken about half an hour later by the door opening.

I was going to turn around and make a snide remark about Dean's lack of ability to pick someone up, but then I heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing and a woman giggling.

That fucker.

"Who is...?"

"Just a co-worker I'm splitting a room with," he assured her, kissing her again. "Don't worry; she sleeps like the dead."

I heard him pull some article of clothing off – my guess was a shirt.

"I just...feel weird...with her in the room."

I cut off his attempt to pacify her by sitting up and stretching. Then I turned and gave her my most insincere smile.

"Then let me just get out of your way," I said sweetly, standing up and walking towards the door. Dean was smirking at me. Dick.

I went down to the bar, settled myself in a booth, and ordered a drink. While I waited, I checked my email. My attorney friend had gotten back to me.

'Hey Liz – sorry it took me a bit. I started to read through this; it's actually pretty standard. I was surprised that they didn't have a clause with a minimum commitment to stay; that's generally something that should be addressed. Otherwise, it looks good if you want to take the job! Let me know if you want me to look over the next iteration just to be sure that too much hasn't changed. I've dealt with Aaron Delaney before. He's a great attorney...if he's on your side. Otherwise, he can be pretty ruthless. I don't think you'll have anything to worry about though, like I said – this is pretty standard. Still, you can never be too careful.'

I took a few minutes – and a few sips of my drink – while I thought about her response. Standard was good. Aaron Delaney being a great attorney was good. The ruthless thing was a little concerning. Did I think Aaron would do something to intentionally fuck me over? I wanted to believe that he wouldn't, but I really didn't know the guy all that well.

I pushed my mind away from Aaron, as much as I really would've liked to dwell on him a bit longer. I needed to make a decision about this job and the whole Dean situation.

First, Dean. That seemed easy enough. Of course it would be great to not be forced to be with him every minute for the next month. Well, every minute except for when he brought skanks back up to our room to bang. Asshole.

Focus.

So, I could live with Dean for the next month...but I would really prefer not to. That left the job.

I could easily go back to Stanford and find another job as a CPA. I had the education, I had a good resume and references, and I interviewed well. It wouldn't be difficult from a practical standpoint.

But...was that what I wanted? A life of just toiling away with numbers and clients and the endless nine-to-five grind? I could feel a weight settling back on my shoulders just thinking about it. It should be what I wanted – that steady, stable life. It was what I'd been chasing after since I was a kid, when my life had been anything but steady and stable.

I liked being on the road. I met a lot of cool people and saw so many interesting places. I liked the testosterone circus that was backstage at the WWE. And if the stressors had been removed, maybe the job would be even better.

Besides, even if it wasn't...I could quit and find a different job. I could go back to that normal life at any time. So maybe I should just ride this out.

Well, that was one decision made. I downed the rest of my drink and looked around for a waitress to flag down for another one.

That's how I caught sight of Dean standing just outside the bar with his little...conquest. She had his phone in her hands; probably putting her phone number in. I shook my head, smiling. She had no idea that he'd never call her.

She handed her phone back to him, stood on her toes, and kissed him. He smiled after her as she walked away, even waving when she looked back. Then the smile dropped off his face and he came in, rolling his eyes.

"Do you see what I have to resort to when you act like a bitch?" He said, sliding into the booth across from me.

"Disappointing some girl you'll never see again?"

He laughed bitterly, waving the waitress over. "She wasn't disappointed. I might've been fast, but I'm still good."

We put in our orders and waited in silence until we got our drinks.

"So is this where I tell you that your message is received?" I asked, taking my first sip.

"And what message do you think that is?"

"That you don't need me to get your rocks off."

"I don't," he agreed, taking a gulp of his own drink. "I've never had a problem finding women, Lizzy."

"Keeping is a different story, huh?"

He gave a small grin before it fell off his face. "Never really found one I wanted to keep before you."

I rolled my eyes. "You have a very strange way of expressing affection, you know that?"

"I do. You seem to understand it, though."

"Understanding it doesn't mean I like it."

"What do you want from me? Flowers? Candy? I tried the declaration of love thing; you _definitely_ didn't like that."

"How about when I tell you I don't want sex you don't bring some other chick back to our room? That might be a good start."

He laughed. "You're cute when you're jealous. I was just proving a point. Kind of like you were with the lawyer the other day."

"That there are other options? Was that really your point?"

He shook his head. "No." He downed his drink. "My point was, sweetheart, that even though you and I go out and find other people...we still end up with each other at the end of the day." He paused, and I felt my heart sink a little bit. He seemed to have a point.

"You and me, Liz...I'm not sweating anything. We're always going to come back to each other. You and I are inevitable. You'll figure it out soon enough."

He stood up. "I'm going to get some sleep. Come up when you're ready."

I watched him walk away, his words still circulating through my brain and punching me in the gut. When he was gone, I downed my own drink and then gestured the waitress back over.

I was going to need a few more before I could go back upstairs.


	46. Chapter 46

I stumbled back up to our room around three that morning. Dean, mercifully, was out. I flopped onto the unoccupied bed, managed to set an alarm for nine, and immediately passed out.

When I woke up to the shrill alarm with a pounding headache, Dean was gone. Good. That probably made things a bit easier.

I made my way to the shower, pausing at the coffee maker to throw on a pot. I was going to need all the help I could get today.

I emerged from the shower feeling marginally more human. At least, my head felt more like its usual size instead of four sizes too big. I downed the coffee, got dressed, and hurried up to Paul's room for our meeting.

I had no idea what this was going to bring. My guess was more bullshit I didn't want to deal with. ...That might've been the hangover talking. I shook my head gently and took a deep breath before I knocked on his door. I needed to focus. This was about my foreseeable future. If that didn't necessitate a little bit of grace and forethought, nothing did.

All of that grace and civility nearly went out the window when the door opened and I saw not only Paul Heyman waiting for me, but seated at a table behind him, Dean and Wade as well.

I almost turned around and walked out. Grace and civility, I reminded myself. Grace and civility. So instead, I turned to Paul. "I thought we were the only ones who were going to meet?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"I thought it would be easier to have all the concerned parties in one room at one time," he said, stepping aside and gesturing me into the room. "That way, we can get this all sorted out today."

"Perfectly reasonable," I agreed, even though my blood was boiling.

"Is everyone here now?" A familiar voice asked, and my heart leaped in my chest – I figured he would conference call in, not show up...but there he was, peering around the corner at me. His face lit up, and I'm sure mine did too.

"Yes," Paul replied. "Liz, this is – "

"Aaron Delaney," I interrupted. "We've met."

"Good to see you again, Liz," Aaron said, offering his hand. I shook it, both of us obviously trying hard to keep ridiculous smiles off of our faces. I heard someone – my guess was Dean – scoff behind us.

"Good to see you," I replied, ignoring Dean's input. "I hope your flight wasn't as bad this time."

His grin grew wider. "Paul booked me on Jet Blue. Much better this time around." He squeezed my hand. "Why don't you have a seat? We'll get started."

Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away. He immediately pulled a chair out for me. The minute that I was at the table, his demeanor changed – he was all professional. It was kind of admirable.

I tried to ignore both Dean and Wade staring holes into the side of my head and focus on Aaron and Paul. I could deal with whatever consequences Dean dreamed up for me for being nice to Aaron later, and I really didn't give a shit about Wade.

"So," Aaron started, leaning on the table, "this is the most ridiculously complicated employee-employer contract I've drawn up in a very long time. You obviously all have some skin in the game, which makes it much more difficult than usual." He paused to look at each of us for a brief moment before sitting down. "Let's see if we can at least agree on the basics, shall we?"

"The basics are simply this – Paul wants to give Liz a job. That's where the rest of it gets...complicated."

"It's not that complicated," Dean said. I finally turned to look at him. "I fought for the right to have Liz with me for a month. I'm not giving that up."

"And _I_ fought for the right to keep her away from you," Wade growled. " _I'm_ not giving _that_ up."

Aaron raised his hands. "Let's go back to the basics...Liz, do you even want this job?"

I froze. "I still haven't been told what this job entails," I admitted. "I have no idea whether I would want it or not – the only thing that's been explained to me is that I'll be able to break my contract with Mr. Ambrose if I accept."

"Not going to happen," Dean said. A small muscle jumped in Aaron's cheek. Good, I wasn't the only one annoyed with all the macho posturing.

"Paul, why don't you explain the actual job to Liz?" He sounded annoyed. My guess was this was something that should've been done already.

"Sure. It's pretty simple, really. You'll be my assistant. I want you to handle some of the more standard paperwork and match assignments. You will do more travel than you did previously; I want you at house shows to keep things running smoothly. In my absence, you will run the show. You're going to receive the same salary, with certain...benchmark bonuses, as well as annual raises. You're getting an extra week of vacation time, and travel assistance. That's about it."

Aaron's head swung back to me. Moment of truth.

"I would be interested," I replied.

"Fantastic. That's settled. Now," Aaron turned to look at the troublesome end of the table. "We have two very conflicting stipulations that are mucking up the works."

"The way I see it," Dean said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table, "there's nothing to discuss. Liz signed a contract that says she's with me for the next thirty days. If you want to offer her a job, do it after my time is up. I've earned this time with her."

Wade scoffed. "You only earned it because I..."

"Betrayed Lizzy like a little bitch, we know. I would've done it without your help."

"Guys, stop," I said. "There's no point to all this bullshit bickering. What's done is done." I turned specifically to look at Wade. "I...appreciate what you did as far as getting me this opportunity." Oh man, that was harder to say than I thought it would be. "It was a shitty way to do it, and that means things won't ever be right between us again. But I feel like I should tell you this so you know that you don't have a stake in this any longer. Please stop fighting for something you'll never have. It's pointless."

His face fell. I couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. I was on a roll.

I turned to Dean.

"As for you..." I shook my head. "I don't get you. At all. I don't understand why this is so important to you, but I'm willing to roll with it if you agree to let me have a clean break at the end of it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll stay with you for the next...twenty-eight days. But when that time is up, I want you to back off. I want you to treat me like a co-worker and stay out of my life."

His face went pale and his brow furrowed. "And if you decide that you actually want me in your life? Do I still need to back off then?"

I actually hurt a little for him – he was still expecting that? He wasn't going to have an easy time of it when I left.

"We can reassess if that's the case," I replied. "Is that fair?"

He stared at me for a minute. "Yes," he said.

"Then it's settled," I turned back towards Paul and Aaron.

"Not quite," Dean said. I turned back and raised an eyebrow. "If you decide you want to be done with me and I need to back away..." He trailed off, biting his lip. A loss for words? This was rare. "I'll agree to it if you agree that for the rest of your time with me, you don't tell me no."

I visibly blanched. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Lizzy. Every little thing I want, every thing I ask of you – you can't say no."

"This isn't something we can really put in a contract," Aaron broke in.

"Of course not," Dean said, keeping his eyes on me. "The job contract is totally separate from this. This is an agreement between Liz and I."

I shook my head. "That's insane. So for the next twenty-eight days, I'm a slave to whatever whim you might have, and then...there's no guarantee you'll leave me alone."

Dean swung his legs off the table. "Oh, I won't leave you alone, sweetheart. If you agree to this, the end of our little run will only be the beginning. If you just listen to me, let go of all the little nagging thoughts in your head and give in – you won't want me to leave."

"You're delusional," I said flatly.

He grinned. "Maybe. But those are my terms, Lizzy. You stay with me for now. You say yes. And if at the end you decide you don't want me, I'll pack up and go."

I think Aaron tried to break in again, but Paul held up his hand to silence him.

"You really will leave me alone when it's done?"

"If that's what you want, yes."

I sat there with my mind racing, trying to think of the best possible way to handle this. I had no clue what to do, and Dean knew it.

"Tick-tock, Lizzy. Don't keep me waiting. This offer has an expiration on it."

"Fine," I spat. "Fine, you son-of-a-bitch. You've got a deal."


	47. Chapter 47

"Fantastic!" He said, springing to his feet. I wanted to punch him. "If there's nothing else..."

"Tell me you're fucking kidding me," Wade growled. I'd almost forgotten he was there, and when I turned to him now I saw the clenched jaw and reddening complexion that meant someone – I guessed it was me – was in trouble.

For once, I elected to stay silent. I didn't think it would stop the oncoming storm, but I knew that nothing could – and trying to speak up now would only further whip the frenzy.

When I didn't speak, he shook his head. "You don't understand _him_? I don't understand _you_. You ran like hell from a good relationship, from a good...you ran from me. And now you're agreeing to stay with him? This lunatic, this man who made your life utter chaos and insanity...you're giving him control over your every move? But _I'm_ the one who's the problem here?"

His voice had steadily increased in volume, and now he slammed one fist onto the tabletop, making most of us jump – Dean remained unmoved.

"You deserve him," Wade spat, standing up and flinging his chair into the table. "You never deserved me. Thanks for showing me that."

He didn't wait for a response – good thing; I didn't have one – but instead walked away, slamming the door behind him.

Dean glanced at me and raised his eyebrows. "Good thing he didn't know about our little fling while you guys were together, huh Lizzy?"

I shot him a dirty look. I knew what he was doing; he was saying this for the shock value and attempting to tank Aaron's opinion of me. I wasn't going to have any of that. "You call following me back to my house and refusing to leave until I kissed you a _fling_? Jesus. I just got my ass handed to me; do me a favor – don't be a dick right now."

He raised his hands in a gesture of harmlessness, but he was smirking. "Fine. Well, after that spectacular exit – I think we're done here."

" _You_ are, yes," Paul said. "I'll walk you back to your room." He stood up, buttoning his jacket. He looked irritated but attempted to hide it. "I should make sure Wade isn't busting up his room."

"Lizzy –"

"Is staying here," Aaron said firmly. "We have a contract to go over and get signed."

Dean flopped back in his chair. "Then I'm staying too."

"No," Paul barked, "you are not. Get up. Come with me."

Dean smiled, but with his teeth bared it looked more like a snarl. "Nope. If Lizzy stays, so do I." He put his feet up on the table to drive his point home.

Paul looked over his shoulder at Aaron, who surprised me by waving him off. "It's ok," he said. "I really just need Ms. Moore's signature. It'll be quick. In fact, if you can spare a minute, let's just all sign it and be done with it."

Heyman shrugged in response, but did come closer to the table.

Taking this as acquiescence, Aaron pushed the contract towards me and reached into his suit jacket pocket for a pen before scooting his chair closer to mine. So close that our knees brushed together, and I felt my heart pick up its pace by a few beats.

This condition wasn't at all helped as he leaned towards me and, in a low, gentle voice, explained that this was the same exact contract Paul had given me on Monday – minus the clauses about my contract with Dean ending – and went through all the places that needed my signature or initials, his big hands deftly pointing each signature line out to me.

"Perfect," he said as I signed the last line. "You are done. I just need to sign my name as a witness."

I handed him the pen and watched as he scrawled his signature. It still looked lovely.

Then, breaking the moment, he slid the contract over to Paul for his signature and moved away. He didn't sit as close to Paul, I noted in an irrational moment of triumph. Like he would want to brush knees with a man in his fifties...like it should matter to me if he did.

"And that's that," Aaron said as Paul finished signing.

"Great," Dean said, hopping to his feet again. "So that should be the last we'll be seeing of you, _Mister Delaney._ "

Aaron's return smile was tight. "Oh, I don't know," he said, a hard edge beneath his voice. "Things have a way of cropping up now and again. I wouldn't say your permanent goodbyes just yet...Mister Ambrose."

I tried so hard to not roll my eyes at this testosterone-fueled display and almost succeeded. Almost.

Aaron caught the tail end of it and had to suppress a genuine smile. He reached across the table and took my hand.

"Liz, a pleasure as always," he said, squeezing my hand lightly. "Take care of yourself, all right?"

"It was great to see you," I replied with more than a touch of reluctance. "I certainly will. Have a safe trip back to New York."

He didn't pull away; instead, he brought his other hand up to cover mine. "And listen...what you have with Mr. Ambrose isn't a legally binding agreement, ok? You can't, say, sign a marriage certificate under duress like this. It would never hold up in court."

He was serious. I had to laugh. "I don't quite think marriage is what he has in mind," I answered. "But I appreciate that."

"I'm right here, you know," Dean snapped.

"I'm perfectly aware," Aaron replied, still maintaining eye contact with me. I barely managed to keep the smile off of my face – I had to leave with Dean, and showing favoritism towards Aaron now would do me no favors.

"Take care of yourself," he repeated. "And if you should need anything...call me."

I nodded. "I will, and I will," I promised. He dropped my hand. "You be good."

He shook his head. "Never."

"Ugh, will you two stop it?" Dean slammed his hands down on the table. "Contract signed; meeting over. Lizzy's still mine, and we have to go."

I closed my eyes for a brief second before glancing over at him to see him staring at me intently. He gestured towards the door. I couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, so I made my way towards the door.

"For now," Aaron called after us when we were near the door.

Dean stopped and turned around. "Excuse me?"

Aaron smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Liz is yours," he agreed. "For now. But twenty-eight days from now..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess we'll see what happens." He flicked his eyes to me. "I hope to see you soon."

I didn't get a chance to reply, as Dean grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me out the door.

"I don't know who that asshole thinks he is," Dean muttered as the door slammed behind us. "But he'd better be careful, or next time I'll knock his goddamn teeth down his fucking throat."

I couldn't help but antagonize him a bit. "Feeling a little threatened, are we?"

He shot me a dirty look. "Be careful, Lizzy. Be very careful right now. I don't like it when you're indifferent towards me. Can you imagine how pissed I now am that you _blatantly_ disrespected me _and_ drooled all over another man while I watched?" He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder why I want to keep you around at all."

"Then why not just get rid of me?" I asked.

"Nice try. Not going to happen." He stopped abruptly and turned towards me, grabbing my face between his hands. "In fact..." He bent and kissed me roughly, pulling my body into his. We were both breathless when he pulled away.

He gave me a smug smile. "I bet you forgot all about what's-his-name, didn't you?"

I pursed my lips, trying hard to keep from laughing in his face. "What do I say if I'm not allowed to tell you 'no'?"

He glowered at me for a minute, his mouth moving soundlessly before he grabbed me by the arm again and began marching us back to our room without saying another word. I had the good sense to stuff my laughter down.

It seemed that Aaron wasn't the only one getting the best of Dean today.


	48. Chapter 48

I expected Dean to strip me naked and do all manner of terrible things to me the minute the door to our room shut behind us...but he didn't. Instead, he set about packing his stuff, grumbling all the while.

Dealing with Aaron this morning had really keyed him up; he was much more agitated in his movements than usual. I decided not to poke at him any further and packed my own things in silence.

The rest of our day was relatively uneventful. Somewhere towards the end of our ride with Rollins and Reigns – and after chain smoking three cigarettes or so – he seemed to relax. I was cautiously optimistic that maybe he would drop this whole thing about Aaron.

In drastic contrast to the drama-filled days that had preceded, this day was pretty easy. Dean and I didn't have too much to say to one another, but that didn't bother me. It gave me a little space to rest from the craziness.

Surprising myself, I didn't really think about Aaron. I thought more about Wade. I wasn't sure how to feel about him. He'd fucked me over, but he'd just been trying to resolve the messy situation I'd been in. And today, he had seemed genuinely upset at the way things had gone.

I wasn't sure if his anger was from some misguided sense of entitlement – he'd 'saved' me; I should be grateful – or if it was from a genuine place of hurt that things were over.

I didn't know how to make it right with him, or if I even wanted to. We were going to have to work together, but as long as we could be civil...maybe there was nothing more to say. Maybe I should just drop it and let him move past this without any more drama.

And, of course, I thought about Dean.

I was going to have to work with him as well, after this was over. And I didn't think that he was just going to have one table-slapping outburst like Wade did. It was probably going to be much worse than that – after all, he thought that I was going to stay. And when things didn't go his way, he tended to lash out.

When something as big as this – something he'd spent months chasing after – didn't go the way he was expecting, I couldn't see any type of outcome that didn't end with him or I in some serious shit. I selfishly hoped it was him, but I knew I would feel guilty if that actually came to pass.

As always, even with all this contemplation, I remained in an uneasy limbo about how to handle this situation with him.

We made it to our hotel after the show that night, and all I wanted to do was drop my bags and fall into bed. I noticed that he'd sprung for a room with a single king-size bed this time; apparently, no more separate sleeping arrangements.

I sat on the edge of the bed and was just about to kick my shoes off when Dean stopped me.

"We're going out," he announced. "Drinks with Seth and Roman."

I was on the verge of refusing before he shot me a look that served to remind me of our earlier agreement. So, with a mighty sigh, I heaved myself off of the bed and joined him.

It wasn't a bad time – Seth and Roman seemed to have relaxed around me knowing that I wasn't really 'the enemy' any longer. Paul had told them about me joining the team after my time with Dean, and they were actually pretty friendly.

Dean was uncharacteristically quiet for most of the night. Seth and eventually Roman drifted away, their sights set on a few ladies at the other end of the bar. I noticed a third woman eyeing Dean, and tried to draw his attention to it.

"You should go talk to her."

He turned and looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"She's eye-fucking you."

He shrugged. "So?"

"Usually you're interested in that kind of thing. I thought I'd mention it."

He kept his eyes on me. "Do you want me to leave so you can talk to Mr. Delaney?"

"What? No. I don't have his number."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't lie. He told you to call him."

"I have a business card with his office number on it. I doubt he's there right now."

He grunted in acknowledgment, then went back to drinking and maintaining our awkward silence.

"I'm going out for a cigarette," he announced a few minutes later, draining the rest of his drink. "Come with me."

"All right," I agreed, finishing my own drink.

We stood outside in silence for a few minutes, Dean puffing away like crazy and me wrapping my arms around myself to keep some heat in while I stared at the deserted street and watched the reflection of the neon lights behind us dance on the sidewalk.

"Oh for Christ's sake, come here," he said, sounding annoyed and snapping my attention back to him.

"What?"

"You're freezing. Come here," he repeated, unzipping his jacket. I took a few steps towards him, expecting him to offer his jacket to me. Instead, he had me wrap my arms around him beneath his jacket, covering my arms and taking the worst of the chill away.

"Thanks," I said grudgingly.

He didn't say anything. After a few minutes, he finished his cigarette – but didn't make any motions to leave. Instead, his hand came up and he gently pressed my head to his chest. I relented, and he dropped his arms and wrapped them around my waist.

"What is it about him, Lizzy?" He asked after a long minute, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath my ear.

"About who?" I asked.

"Aaron Delaney, esquire," he said, his voice full of scorn. "Why are you falling all over yourself every time you see him?"

I fought back a smile as I thought about it. "He's smart, he's handsome, and we have the same kind of sense of humor. So far, he just...he makes it feel like it could be easy to be with him."

He sighed. "He's all wrong for you. Why can't you see that?"

I was surprised. I pulled back and looked up at him. "Why would you say that? You don't know the guy. At all."

He stared down at me. "I know his type. So do you – it seems like the only type you date. The aggressive, rich asshole hiding beneath this veneer of culture and gentility. That doesn't work out for you, and you end up hurt. Don't you think it might be time to try something different?"

I shook my head. "So that's what this is about. Try someone like you, you mean."

The left side of his mouth turned up in a half-smile before he forced it back down. "That's certainly what I'm driving at. But even if you don't want to be with me...you shouldn't be with him, either. You don't need another jazz-loving dickhead that's going to run around on you. You deserve something better."

I was absolutely baffled. "Why are you saying all this?"

He did smile now, but his eyes were still flat. "Because I think now, more than ever, I'm fighting a losing battle with you because of this guy. Even if you decide not to be with me –" he bent and kissed me quickly "–although I'm not sure how that could happen once I'm done with you – I want you to know that you shouldn't' be with him, either."

I studied him for a long minute. "You're serious."

He nodded. "I am. This guy...the way you look at him...the way he looks at you...it has me worried that you're going to run off and make the same mistakes, and you're going to end up hurt again."

I had no idea what to say. So I forced a smile on my face. "Be careful," I warned. "I just might think you care about more than fucking me."

He laughed, a smirk on his face. "Perish the thought, Lizzy. I just have a vested interest in fucking you for much longer than our contracted time together." He bent and kissed me again. "In fact...what do you say we get out of here?"

"I can't say no," I reminded him.

His mouth split into a wide grin, revealing his teeth. "That's right. How fortunate for me."

He turned towards the road and began looking up and down the street for a taxi to flag down, keeping me pressed to his chest.

I ran his words through my mind over and over again, trying to find the hidden agenda behind them. But even if his words were false, there was no way his body could lie – and the way his heart had sped up throughout that conversation, only to slow back to its steady beat once it was over made me think that maybe he'd been a little anxious about my answers to his questions.

And for once, I didn't even want to think about what that might mean – mostly because, deep down, I already knew.

Dean hadn't been lying when he told me he loved me.


	49. Chapter 49

"God _damn_ ," Dean groaned, bending down and dotting a few kisses on my neck before rolling off of me and settling on his back beside me.

We both lie there for a few minutes, panting, before he rolled to his side and grabbed his pack of cigarettes off of the nightstand. Clenching a cigarette between his teeth, he lit up and smoked in contented silence for a few minutes.

When he was about halfway done, I decided that he might be in a good enough mood to answer a few questions.

"So..."

He groaned, although with significant less pleasure than last time. "Oh here it comes."

I rolled over and looked at him. "Here _what_ comes?"

"All the arguments about why Aaron Delaney, esquire, is the right man for you. Or all the questions about why I'm suddenly being a nice guy and what motivations I might have." He paused to stub his cigarette out. "I've told you a million times, Lizzy. My only motivation is to make you realize that you belong with me." He rolled over to face me. "Does that answer your question?"

"No."

He exhaled through his noise, obviously agitated. "Let's hear it, then."

"What's the deal with this whole 'me not saying no' thing?"

He rolled his eyes. "I literally just answered your question."

"You did not."

"Yes I did."

"Then explain it to me anyway, because I'm not making the connection."

He sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "All right. I figured that if I could just get you to stop fighting with me and go along with my plans with minimal fuss, you and I could actually start making some progress."

"Is that what the conversation tonight was about? Progress?"

"Do you have to dissect everything?"

"I'm only behaving how you've trained me to behave. I'm used to having to dissect your every move. So if you want things to change – stop being so goddamn stubborn and just tell me what's going on."

He was quiet for a minute, and I thought he was going to duck me again. "Would you believe that I was afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

He laughed. "All kinds of things. I didn't expect us to win that match, you know. I expected that you would win and things would just keep carrying on the way they had before. Then, all of the sudden, you're in my bed with me telling me that I'm a better man than you realized and...it freaked me the fuck out, all right? Because you were suddenly there, and not just physically. You were _there_ with me; you were on my side. I didn't know how to handle it. I still don't know how to handle it." He finally looked over at me.

"I'm afraid of how you look at him, too. Mr. Aaron Delaney, esquire. Because you never looked at Barrett like that, and you certainly never looked at me like that. I'm not that type of guy. I never will be. And for whatever reason, he's what you want – even though I really do think he's all wrong for you.

"So why did I make it so that you can't say 'no'? Because I needed to take some of the goddamn pressure off, that's why. I needed to know that you weren't going to fight me anymore. Maybe then I could adjust to all of this, maybe then I could..."

My heart was slamming against my ribs. I didn't want to know. I really didn't want to know.

"Maybe then you could what?" I asked.

"Maybe then I could be what you needed," he finished after a brief hesitation. "Because I already know that you're what I need, whether I admit that enough or not. But that's only half the equation."

I shook my head. "How do you know that I'm what you need?"

"I don't know that I can explain it right," he started slowly. "You're tough. You're smart. You don't seem intimidated by me or scared of me. I do that, you know – I scare women if I'm around them too long. I've been told I'm too intense. But not for you. You just...roll with it. You call me an asshole, and you roll with it. I like that about you."

"Then remind me to call you an asshole more often," I replied dryly.

"I don't think you'll need that particular reminder, Elizabeth. You have a very dirty mouth."

"Oh shut the fuck up," I said, rolling my eyes while he laughed.

"Is that all for tonight?" He said once he'd stopped chuckling at my expense.

"Yeah, I think so," I yawned, stretching before rolling away from him and curling up into my favorite sleeping position.

The last thing I remembered was Dean's arm snaking around my waist, his chest pressing against my back. I mumbled something unintelligible, snuggled back into him, and fell asleep.

The next few days were so easy that I wondered if I was having one long, extended dream.

Dean and I settled into a cautious truce, both of us temporarily holding our fire. I wanted to see what he was going to do now that everything was out on the table, and he seemed to relax knowing that I wasn't going to argue with him at every turn.

That was another thing that surprised me – I really expected him to take advantage of that stipulation of not saying no. He didn't. Well... OK, there were a few times in bed where he teasingly reminded me that I had to do whatever he said...but I really didn't mind that.

By the time we rolled into Raw the following Monday, I think we were both in a better place. Dean was still surly as hell, of course, but he didn't seem to be quite as agitated all the time. And I definitely felt less like disaster was constantly lurking around the corner, just waiting for me to walk into it so it could bash me in the head.

That Monday was also surprisingly uneventful...at the time. What I didn't realize was that disaster had gotten much, much better about hiding itself – and biding its time.

But we'll get to that.

The important thing is that I had no idea what was going to come from that night. Sure, I had an inkling of brewing trouble when Paul asked to see me during Dean's match and told me that Aaron Delaney had asked him for my phone number. I would've been completely stupid to not see how that might cause a little tension in my life.

"Is it for the contract stuff?" I asked, equal parts hopeful and terrified.

Paul shook his head. "He says it's just in case, but I've known Aaron for a long time. I think," he paused, crossing his arms over his chest, "that he might be a little sweet on you. But you already knew that; you'd have to be blind not to see it."

I shrugged in acknowledgment. "Of course I noticed. I just...this isn't really the best time, with Dean and all..."

"So would you like me to tell him no?" Paul asked, an eyebrow raised. "Are you really the type of woman who can't handle her own business?"

I glared at him. "Of course I can handle my own business. Send him my number. I'll try to let him down easy so it's not awkward."

"How magnanimous of you," he replied dryly. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

I figured that this whole thing was mostly settled – at least for the moment – and put it out of my mind. I mean, it seemed so straightforward – Aaron would call, I would be polite and let him know that this wasn't really a great time, life would move on.

That was when disaster laughed at me and put another seemingly-innocent occurrence in motion.

Dean was flat on his back in bed beside me when he told me I could go home if I wanted.

I was utterly baffled for a minute. "What do you mean?" I managed to ask.

He was in the middle of lighting a cigarette, so he took a second to answer. "Thanksgiving's Thursday, remember? You can go home and spend it with your family if you'd like."

I shook my head. "I don't have any family. But if you want me out of your hair so you can celebrate with your family, I get it. I'll head back to my place for a few days."

He stared at me for a few long minutes, his head propped up on his arm and the cigarette turning to ash in his free hand. "I don't have any family either. Well, I do, but they're..."

"Not people you want to see," I finished for him. "That might be the first thing we have in common."

He smirked. "Well, that and the fact that we really like giving each other orgasms."

I slapped a hand down on his bare stomach, glaring at him.

"Tell me it's not true," he challenged.

"Oh shut it."

He grinned. "I'll take that as a 'yes, you're right.'" He smoked for a few more minutes, staring up at the ceiling. "So what are we going to do about this family holiday where we have no family and no work to occupy us?"

I shrugged before yawning and stretching. "As long as you don't make me wear an apron and cook you a six-course meal, I don't give a shit."

"Wearing just the apron?" He asked, tilting his head. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll have to keep that in mind for the future."

I rolled my eyes. "Something to look forward to; terrific. So what were you thinking of doing, then?"

He stubbed out his cigarette and rolled over to face me. "Come home with me. Everything in Vegas will be running. It'll be like it's not a holiday at all, except for the whole no-work thing."

"You mean we can forget it's Thanksgiving?"

He grinned. "Maybe. I don't know. The strip club usually has a Thanksgiving buffet. That might be hard to ignore."

I tossed my head back and laughed. "You're really going to take me to a strip club in Vegas on Thanksgiving?"

His smile grew wider. "Do you have a better idea?"

I shook my head. "No. Fuck it. Let's do it. It'll probably be my best Thanksgiving in a long time."

I was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong _wrong._


	50. Chapter 50

What I'd mentally been calling 'Dean and Liz Do Vegas' actually started out pretty decently.

We made it to town early that Thursday morning and immediately went to Dean's place. I barely had a chance to look around – not that there was much to look at; he apparently wasn't one for decorating – before he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me back to the bedroom.

I almost kicked up a fuss – dear Christ, I was tired – but I realized quickly that he had little more than sleeping on his mind.

It was blissful to sleep without knowing that an alarm was going to go off in a few hours. I woke up around two that afternoon without any guilt or shame. Dean was still asleep, on his back with his mouth wide open next to me. I had to suppress a smile while I reached out to move some of his hair out of his face – a gesture he never would've allowed if he was awake. He was very particular about his hair, fussing over it endlessly to get that perfect 'I don't care' mess that he usually had going.

I froze mid-brush, the overwhelming affection I suddenly felt for him throwing me completely off-guard. The rush of affection was quickly replaced by a tingling fear that filled every inch of my body, leaving my fingers simultaneously tingling and numb.

In spite of that uncomfortable feeling, I managed to get out of the bed without waking him up. I made my way out to his sparse living room, wrapping my arms around myself and trying to breathe deeply.

"It's natural," I muttered. "Sleeping together, spending every minute together. When he's nice, he's pretty bearable...and he's been nice. It's perfectly normal to feel affection for someone like that."

I almost managed to convince myself, but I was still definitely a bit weird around Dean when he woke up...something that did not escape his attention.

"What the hell is up with you?" He asked, staring at me over the rim of his coffee mug, one eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to clam my obvious fidgeting.

"You're wound as fuck, that's what I mean."

Shit. Think, Liz, think. "I'm nervous about going to the strip club," I blurted.

He lowered his mug, a look of mild amusement on his face. "Why the fuck would that make you nervous?"

I shrugged. "I've never been before. I don't know what to expect."

"Naked women."

I shot him a look. "Duh."

"We don't have to go, you know." He replied, a small grin on his face while he drank more of his coffee. "I can think of plenty that we can do here to entertain ourselves." He ran his eyes over my body in a very obvious way. " _Plenty_."

I rolled my eyes, but finally started to relax a bit. "Well, I might as well delay the inevitable exposure to your perversions and hope you get your fill at the strip club."

He laughed. "I'll never 'get my fill' of you, Lizzy." He turned and dropped his mug at the sink before turning around, crossing his arms over his chest. "In fact, I'm thinking that I don't want to share you tonight."

"Share me with female strippers? Is that really a concern of yours?"

He shrugged. "You never know. You might decide that you've had enough of men and run off. I've seen stranger things."

"Trust me, it's crossed my mind," I replied dryly.

"See?" He said, pushing himself off of the counter and coming towards me. "All the more reason to keep you here." He stopped about two inches in front of me and reached out to run a finger over my collarbone. "With me."

"And make you miss out on the holiest of strip club holidays? I'd feel terrible."

He grinned, bringing his eyes up to meet mine. "Who said I'd be missing out on anything?" He closed the space between us. "In fact, I think I'm going to get my own private show this evening."

I stepped back, horrified. "Oh the hell you are!"

He laughed heartily. "You can't say no to me Lizzy, remember?" He bent and kissed me, pulling me closer to him.

"Trust me, that is _not_ something you want to see," I said, squirming away from him.

"And why not?" He asked, pulling me back to him. "Why don't you think I'd want that?"

"I'll look awkward as hell," I whined.

"No you won't. You'll look sexy as fuck." He bent and ran his tongue over my neck. "Besides, do you really think I won't make it worthwhile for you?"

"I know you will," I grumbled, tilting my neck without thought to allow him better access to me. "You usually do without me having to give you a lap dance."

"I'll make it even more worth your while than usual, then," he murmured, gripping my earlobe between his teeth and giving a light tug.

I met his amused eyes with a resigned sigh. "Fine," I muttered, stepping back and yanking my shirt off.

He laughed. "You sound so enthused. And I didn't mean right now. I need to feed you first." He paused. "Maybe try to be a little sexier next time, though, like this..."

Giving me a pouty look that both made me laugh and was oddly appealing, he began dancing around in a really terrible endearing way, teasing several times that he was going to yank his boxers down before he actually did it – and then his dick was bouncing around as he kept dancing with exaggerated motions.

I nearly fell over laughing, and he wrapped his arms tight around me, his own chest jostling as he laughed.

"I'm sure you'll do much better than I did," he said, somewhat out of breath. "In fact, kind of counting on it."

"No pressure or anything."

He shook his head. "No. There isn't. Because I wasn't lying to you Lizzy...you are sexy as fuck, no matter what you're doing." He kissed me again, and when he pulled away I was actually a little dizzy. He grinned and ran his thumb over my cheek. "Now hit the showers and get dressed. We'll find some food."

I went to follow orders, actually excited about the rest of my night – and for once, that excitement wasn't unfounded. Dinner was excellent. I actually enjoyed my time with Dean, and I found myself feeling that rush of affection again – but this time not followed by abject terror. I figured the few beers I had in anticipation of my 'performance' had at least a little to do with that.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the strip club?" I asked one last time as we left the restaurant. "I'll buy you as many lap dances as you want."

He reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "Would you relax? The only dance I want is from you, in the privacy of my own home, where I can subsequently do dirty, terrible things to you."

"I wish I'd never given you this idea," I grumbled.

"Trust me, I would've come up with it sooner or later. Probably after making you go to the club tonight. I kind of already had in mind that you'd be doing this for me."

I shot him a look, and he grinned widely. I hated the fact that it was kind of cute.

He didn't waste a minute when we got back, dragging a chair from his kitchen into the middle of his living room, lowering the lights, and turning the stereo on to some music he deemed acceptable. Then, he sat in the chair and waited expectantly, fingers tented.

"It's like you've done this before," I teased, trying to ignore his resulting smirk.

"I'm waiting," was all he replied.

"Oh fine," I sighed. I thought it would be easier if I started with my back to him, so I turned around and started swaying my hips in time with the music, slowly pulling the hem of my shirt up and letting it fall again, trying to ignore how awkward I felt.

Gradually, I started to feel a little more comfortable. It felt like I was just dancing around in my bedroom with Dean being so quiet behind me. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it, glancing back over my shoulder at him.

I was surprised to see him watching me intently. I was pretty sure what I'd been doing was quite boring, but he didn't seem to think so. That gave me a little more courage, and I turned to face him. I even took a few steps closer to him, putting a little extra oomph in my movements.

I unbuttoned my pants, attempting to wriggle out of them in what I hoped was a sexy way. I had to stifle a giggle, but he barely seemed to notice. After a few more minutes of hip swaying and booty shaking, I pulled my bra off. I couldn't help but feel that this was the most inefficient way ever to get undressed, and I wasn't sure why men liked it so much. Wouldn't it just be easier to strip down and get to business?

I didn't really have too much time to think on this concept, because now Dean was expecting the real show to begin – the real show being my bits rubbing against his through our respective layers of clothing. Again, super inefficient, but hey – who was I to judge?

I lowered myself on his lap gingerly, surprised when I felt that he was already hard. Really? With my fumbling movements and poor excuse for stripping? Jeez. I'd say he must've been hard-up, but I knew that wasn't true.

I began slowly, rocking my hips against his crotch. He reached up to grab my breasts, which were hanging inches from his face, and I slapped his hands away.

"I may not know much, but there is one thing I do know – you're not allowed to touch the dancers."

He looked legitimately angry for a minute before his expression smoothed out. "So you're an expert now, huh?"

I reached between us and lightly gripped his erection through his jeans. "This tells me that I'm doing something right," I retorted.

He took a deep breath. "You're doing a lot of things right."

"Then shut up and let me do them."

I had no idea where that had come from, but apparently either the booze was kicking in or knowing that Dean was enjoying this had shot my confidence through the roof. I was into this now.

He shrugged and put his hands on the arms of the chair, his hands curling around the ends. I kept moving, just letting my body do what felt natural. Apparently it kept working – I watched Dean's fingers flex and clench a few times, and heard him inhale sharply more than once.

I had no idea how to gracefully stop this, so I decided to do it without much grace. I slid down to my knees, watching Dean's hands grip the chair tightly while I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice tightly controlled and a little breathless.

"You can't touch me," I replied, reaching into his pants to free his erection, "but I can touch you."

I bent my head and took him into my mouth before he could object, and he gave a stifled cry as my mouth slid nearly all the way down his shaft.

"Jesus, Lizzy," he moaned. I barely heard him, entirely focused on giving him a five-star blowjob. I had no idea what had gotten into me – but I felt sexy as hell, and I felt powerful – and I wanted to prove that I was both.

It didn't take long for him to start throbbing in my mouth, and I vaguely heard him say that he didn't want to cum yet – but he didn't have a say in that tonight. Soon he was spilling what felt like waves of cum down my throat.

Even after he'd stopped, I kept sucking, ignoring his shifting hips and his small cries of protest.

"Jesus," he finally yelped, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me off of him. "Stop, too much, too much, holy shit."

I suppressed a laugh, watching him drop his head back on the chair while his still-erect dick twitched in front of me. It was bright red from all the trapped blood.

"Fucking perfect," he said after a few minutes, still trying to catch his breath. He managed to raise his head enough to look at me. "You are fucking perfect."

I laughed. "Why thank you."

He grinned, and I suddenly didn't like the look of that. "And I'm going to repay you for every agonizing minute of that. In fact, I'll revisit that on your pretty little head times ten."

"Promise?"

He groaned. "Holy hell, I have no idea what's gotten into you but I really, really like it. And yes, I promise. The minute my legs start working again."

It was a promise he kept.

After what felt like an eternity of him between my thighs, ignoring my pleas for a respite from the pleasure just like I'd ignored his, he finally pulled away and flipped me onto my stomach.

He rammed into me from behind, pushing my head down into the pillow so that my scream didn't disturb the neighbors any more than we already had. He'd timed it perfectly so that I would have an orgasm when he entered me, making sure that it was the most intense one so far.

He thrust a few more times before rolling away from me and onto his back. "Come here," he growled, yanking me over to him and pushing me down on his cock.

We were both frantic. I was still having an orgasm, and Dean was trying desperately to hold it together and ride it out.

He failed. He ended up having his own orgasm about sixty seconds after I had climbed on top of him. I was far from disappointed, and collapsed on top of him in grateful, sweaty heap.

"I was hoping I'd last a little longer with you on top," he panted, kissing my neck and cheek, any part of me that he could reach. "Then there you are, gripping me so tight while you came, riding me so hard, tits bouncing...I couldn't hold back."

I managed to turn my head and kiss him on the lips. "Thank God," I said. "I'm pretty sure I would've died if you gave me one more tonight."

He laughed. "What was it you said to me our first night together? My fingers still work, I think."

"Oh dear God please no. I need like six years to recover."

"I'll give you six minutes," he replied, rolling us so that he was on top of me again.

"There's no way you're ready right now."

"Sadly, you're right. But if there was a mental override for my dick, I'd fuck you every minute of every day."

I smiled. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

He bent and kissed me, surprisingly very sweetly. "You should feel special, you know. I think you're fucking perfect. That wasn't just a line."

I swallowed hard. "Yeah, well...you're all right yourself."

He raised an eyebrow. "Just all right?"

I sighed. "You made me... I felt..." I trailed off, not finding the right words. He stared down at me, both suspicious and oddly patient.

"I've never felt that way with any other man before," I finally elected to say. "You made...make...me feel sexy and powerful and...oh fuck, it's so weird, but you make me feel safe being those things."

His expression relaxed, and he actually smiled a little bit. "You know what that means, don't you?" He asked, bringing a hand up to push a few sweaty strands of hair out of my face.

"I have no idea," I replied honestly.

He bent so his lips were only about an inch from mine. "It means that we are both in so much fucking trouble." He closed the gap between us and kissed me.

Trouble, if this was it, seemed like a very good place to be. Trouble moved our exhausted bodies to the shower, where we washed away the sweat and grime that comes with fantastic sex. Trouble propelled us back to the bed, where I actually flung my body onto Dean's and fell into the deepest sleep I'd had in a very long time.

I learned the next morning that none of that was trouble.

Trouble was a white-faced Dean Ambrose shaking me awake, my cell phone clenched tightly in one hand while he asked me just what the fuck I was doing sending Aaron Delaney gifts.

 _That_ was trouble...and it was nowhere near good.


	51. Chapter 51

I stared up at him, completely uncomprehending what was happening, why he was waking me up, and why he was so angry.

Instead of expressing all of that in a coherent way, it came out a jumbled mess - "What the fuck are you talking about?" I mumbled, attempting to yank the covers out of his hand and put them back over me. "I was sleeping."

He ripped the covers away from me viciously, and I stared up at him through sleepy eyes. I still didn't grasp the gravity of the situation.

He lowered himself so that his face was directly in front of mine, nearly nose-to-nose. I could see his eyes practically crackling with nothing short of rage, and I finally started to wake up. I blinked a few times before speaking. "What did you ask me?"

"Why. Did. You. Send. Aaron Delaney. A. Gift."

I reached through the confusion in my head and still came up blank. "I didn't?"

"Are you sure about that?" He asked, his voice low.

"Yes?"

Without taking his eyes off of me, he hit a button on my phone. Aaron's voice filled the room.

"Hey Liz, it's Aaron...uh, Aaron Delaney. In case you know more than one Aaron. ...Oh man, ten seconds in and I already want to hit the re-record button. Anyway, I was just calling to say that I got your package before I left the office this week. That was really sweet of you, making sure I remained clothed even though United was desperate to see me naked. I hope everything is going well with you, hope you're having a great Thanksgiving, and really, _really_ hope I get to see you again soon. Take care of yourself. Bye."

Dean hung up with my voicemail. "Ten-fifteen last night, right around the time you were blowing me in the living room. Why the fuck did you lie to me?"

I shook my head. "I didn't mean to; I just forgot."

"You forgot," he said flatly. "Very convenient. What did you send him?"

I closed my eyes, trying to remember. "A t-shirt. From the coffee shop where we met the night I got the contract from Heyman."

"Oh, you mean the night you tried to tell me he was the love of your life and then let me fuck you? That night? All the while you had a gift for this fucker stowed away?" His voice was increasing in volume with every word. He really wasn't going to like my answer, but I figured being honest right now wasn't the worst thing.

"I bought it the next morning," I admitted quietly. "While you were still asleep."

"Oh that's perfect, Liz. Fucking perfect." He stood up, tapping my phone against his thigh for a few agonizing minutes before dropping it on the bed beside me. "Call him."

I didn't reach for the phone immediately, and he shoved it towards me aggressively. "What do you want me to say?" I asked, resigned to this fate, as I reached for the phone.

"You tell him that you're mine, and that he should leave you alone. You tell him if he calls again..." He cracked his knuckles. I don't think he was really aware of what he was doing; his whole body seemed to be twitching with agitation.

I dialed the number that had called me last night, cleared my throat, and brought the phone up to my face.

"No," Dean snapped, yanking the phone away from me. "Put it on speaker."

I did as he asked just in time for Aaron to pick up, his voice sleepy and obviously happy.

"Good morning. You're up early."

"Good morning," I replied, trying to force myself to sound natural, even cheerful. "I happened to get up for a drink and saw that I'd missed a call last night. I didn't expect to catch you awake."

"I might have left the ringer on just in case you called back," he admitted. "I was looking forward to talking to you."

Dean poked me hard in the arm. I nodded – message received; hurry this up.

"This isn't really going to be easy to say," I said slowly.

"...What is it?"

I closed my eyes, really regretting this – he was a nice guy. "I don't think you and I should talk...not until this whole thing with Dean is behind me, anyway."

I could feel the waves of rage rolling off of him when I said that, but I didn't care – this guy had been nothing but kind to me; I wasn't going to be a dick to him.

"Did I get you in trouble?" He asked.

"You're very perceptive."

He sighed. "That fucking guy."

Dean apparently couldn't hold back anymore. He ripped the phone out of my hand against my protests. "Funny thing, _Mister Delaney_ , I was saying the same thing about you. You just don't know when to back the fuck off, do you?"

"Pot, meet kettle. I believe the difference between you and I is that I'm able to keep Liz's interest without a legally-binding contract."

I closed my eyes. Oh hell. This wasn't good.

To my great surprise, Dean laughed. "That's not the only difference. Do you want to know the other important difference? While you were trying to get her on the phone last night, she couldn't answer because she had my dick in her mouth. And when you hang up and go back to your little bed all alone, I'm going to crawl into bed and fuck the living hell out of _my_ Lizzy."

"Dean, stop," I broke in, utterly disgusted.

"Shut the _fuck up_ ," he growled. "I'm not talking to you."

"Trust me, Dean, you want to stop now," Aaron replied, his own voice low with a little bit of a growl to it.

"Or what? Hmm? You gonna come find me and kick my ass?" He laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

"Stop it," I snapped. "Jesus. Just stop it. I did what you asked me to do; there's no need for this."

There was a sudden silence, and Dean stared at me for a few long minutes. "All right Lizzy. If you want me that badly, I suppose it's not fair to make you wait." He made a point of unbuckling his belt close to the phone's speaker before he hung up.

"So we're not interrupted..." He muttered, prying the back of my phone off and yanking the battery out.

"You are a complete and utter asshole," I spat.

"Why? Because I embarrassed you in front of the love of your life?" He spat, throwing the pieces of my phone on the floor beside the bed. "When are you gonna learn? When?"

"Learn that you're a dick? I already knew that."

He grabbed me by the chin and forced my face up to his. "I'm not playing today, Elizabeth. Here I thought you and I were getting somewhere, here I was trusting you and... Then Mister Delaney calls and blows it the fuck up in my face. I hate being made a fool of."

"We were," I replied, suddenly understanding all of this a bit better. "We were getting somewhere, Dean. That was early on, that was before..." I trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"That was before you learned to lie to me really well to save your own skin," he replied. "I thought you had no way of getting in touch with him, Lizzy. Just his office phone number."

"Paul –" I started, but he shoved me back on the bed.

"I'm not interested," he said, climbing on top of me and pinning my hands to the bed. "So keep your lying whore mouth shut, or you're going to _really_ piss me off."

I stared up at him, astounded. "What are you going to do?"

He sighed as he shifted his weight and moved my hands directly above my head so he could hold them down with one of his hands. The other he brought down and began to work on taking his pants off.

"I'm going to remind you who you belong to," he snarled.

I fought the wave of panic rising in my stomach. "Dean, please," I said, trying to keep my voice as gentle and reasonable as possible. "Please don't do this."

"You don't want to fuck? It seemed to be _all_ you wanted to do last night." He bit back, but he stopped what he was doing for the moment.

"Not like this. Please. Can't we just talk about this? This is all insane."

"For the last time Lizzy, _shut up_."

I clamped my mouth shut, terrified. Even when he had been angry before, I could at least reason with him. I'd never seen him like this, and I had no idea what to do.

He stared down at me for a minute. I tried to avoid his eyes, until he told me to look at him. Then he continued to study me, his expression unreadable.

"You really don't want me to fuck you?"

Warily, I shook my head.

He sighed. "That's really too bad." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Do you want to know why?"

I hesitated, but nodded. I noticed that the free hand that had been working on his jeans began to search his pocket for something. He grasped whatever it was, pulled it out, and held it in his hand for a long while before speaking again.

"Since you don't want me to just remind you that you belong to me, and since I can't trust you to keep it in your fucking pants for everyone _except_ me, I'm going to need to do something to let the world know that you're mine."

I had no idea what he was talking about, not until he flipped his hand over and revealed the switchblade he carried with him.

I met his eyes, horrified. "What are you going to do?"

He grinned, but there was no joy in it. "I'm going to carve my name into you. The only question is...where?"

He reached out and touched the blade to my forehead. It was warm. I didn't expect that.

"Should I go obvious, put it on your forehead so that you remember every time you look in the mirror?" He ran the blade down my neck, over my chest, and stopped just above my belly button. "Or maybe here, so every time you look in the mirror _or_ look down, you'll remember." He slid the blade down a little further, stopping just above my labia.

"Or maybe _here_ ," he said in a low voice, pressing the flat of the blade down a little. "So that no man can ever touch you without knowing that he's taking what belongs to someone else." He glanced back up at me. "What do you think, Liz?"

I swallowed hard. "I think you're fucking crazy."

He laughed. "I still admire how much backbone you have. It's an absolutely stupid fucking thing for you to be doing right now, because I am truly not in the mood. But I'd be remiss if I didn't mention it." He paused. "I gave you the chance to choose. You remember that. All along, I've given you a choice – it's not my fault you keep making the wrong ones."

"Please," I said desperately. "Please let me make it right. That's all I'm trying to do. Let's have sex. I...I'll remember that I belong to you."

"Will you now?" He pressed the blade down a little more forcefully. "Because I think you're fucking lying again to save your own skin. I don't appreciate that."

"I'm not," I replied. "I'm not. I am yours."

His lip curled up. "The worst part is that I want to believe you. I want to believe you _so_ badly. I want to plunge into you and forget all about this. But I don't think I can." He sighed again. "So hold still. I'll be quick."

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I had no idea how things could have gone so sideways in just a few hours. I had no idea why he wasn't listening to me or letting me explain. I had no idea how I could have felt such affection for him yesterday and be so utterly terrified of him today.

I didn't think I would ever have any idea. It just didn't work that way with Dean. So I stayed there, tried to be still, and prayed to whatever fucked-up god that watched over me that he would get this done quickly.

It seemed to be an eternity before he climbed off of me, cursing. I glanced over towards him, watched him stumble back and hit the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor.

"Get out, Liz," he said flatly. "Get your shit and get the fuck out of here, before I really do it."

I didn't need to be told twice. On shaking legs, I gathered up my clothes and the pieces of my phone before heading for the door.

Foolishly, I glanced back – Dean was still sitting there, head in his hands, looking like his whole world had caved in. I froze, debating, until he spoke again.

"What part of 'get the fuck out of here' _DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND_?" He screamed the last few words, bringing his head up to look at me. His face was dark red, his eyes wide and furious. " _GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME. NOW._ "

He didn't have to tell me again. I ran out to the living room, dressed as quickly as I could, and walked through the door of his apartment, letting it slam shut behind me.


	52. Chapter 52

I had no idea where I was going.

I had the clothes on my back, the shoes on my feet, a dismantled phone, and five dollars in my pocket – which I only found by sheer blind luck.

It was instinct more than a real plan that made me duck into a Starbucks about a block from Dean's apartment. I wanted to get off the street in case he had changed his mind and was coming after me.

I ordered a coffee, giving away my five dollars, and sat at a table in the back near a second exit...just in case.

I was halfway through the coffee when it struck me that I should probably put my phone back together and call Aaron before he called in the SWAT team. Then I was going to call Paul and work on getting back home.

Aaron picked up before the phone could even completed a single ring.

"Liz?"

"Hi, Aaron," I replied. My hand had started to shake. I put my coffee down before I spilled it everywhere.

"Oh thank God," he exhaled. "Are you all right?"

"I'm stranded in Vegas with no money and I'm terrified," I blurted out, and unsurprisingly tears filled my eyes. I rested my forehead in one shaking hand and stared down at the table, hoping to avoid being 'that lady' in the middle of a Starbucks. I took a deep breath. "But I'm intact, I'm breathing, and my heart's beating."

"That's a start," he said gently. "We can get the rest of it together as long as you're all right."

"Physically, I'm fine," I assured him. "He...he didn't...he just..." I swallowed hard. I didn't want to talk about this yet. I barely wanted to think about it.

"You don't have to tell me, Liz. Really. I'm just relieved to hear your voice." He paused. "Where in Vegas are you?"

"In a Starbucks, having a suburban white chick meltdown."

He chuckled. "Which Starbucks? Do you know the street?"

I managed to remember, somehow, and relayed this information to him.

"OK. Sit tight. I'm going to make a few phone calls and call you right back, ok?"

I confirmed that this was ok – really, what the fuck else did I have going on? – and we said our goodbyes.

I put the phone on the table and rested my head in my hands. After a minute, I rubbed my weary eyes and attempted to sit up straight and look like I had my shit together.

I had barely started to succeed at that particular task when a text message came in – Paul. 'Aaron called. I know to keep your line open, but I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and that I will make this right.'

The message was both mildly ominous and a huge relief. I didn't know how Paul would 'make this right,' but I was glad to know that I was only going to have one awkward conversation about an attempted rape today. Small silver lining.

Even though I was expecting it, the phone ringing a minute or two later startled me. I jumped, jostling the table and nearly spilling my coffee...again...before I hit the button and answered.

"There's a hotel at the end of the block," Aaron said without preamble. "I've reserved you a room. Go in, give the front desk my name, and they'll take care of everything. Get a little rest, if you can, and we should have things a bit more settled later this evening."

"Thank you," I said, my eyes welling up again as a rush of genuine gratitude ran through me. "I don't know what I'd do..." I bit my lip to keep from sobbing.

He was quiet for a minute. "I'll do anything you need, Liz," he said quietly. "Just say the word."

"You've already done so much," I protested.

"I made a reservation. That's all. Go take advantage of it. When you're ready, call me."

"I will," I promised. "Thank you."

We hung up once again. I looked down at my half-full cup of coffee and decided that I didn't need any more of it. I slid out of the booth and walked out of the coffee shop, making a concentrated effort to keep my head up and look normal.

The hotel I walked into – rather uncertainly – was incredibly inviting, with warm-toned marble floors, coffered ceilings, and massive chandeliers spilling warm amber light throughout the lobby. I gave them Aaron's name at the front desk, and the woman's demeanor immediately became less businesslike and more friendly.

She gave me a single key card and directed me to the room, which was apparently located on the thirty-third floor. I made my way to the elevator, feeling a huge weight descend on my shoulders. I was exhausted – the last of my adrenaline scores had been depleted.

I still had enough energy to be shocked when I walked into the room – which was, in fact, a suite filled with plush furniture and a stunning view of the Vegas strip – but not for terribly long.

I fell onto the bed, curling up into a ball. Thoughts of Dean slid into my head now that I wasn't distracted, and I tried to forcefully push them away. He'd tried to hurt me – hell, he'd tried to _brand_ me as his. It was a miracle I wasn't lying on his bed bleeding.

And that was about the moment that the fear, the relief, the confusion, and the hurt fell on me all at once. I started crying finally.

"What the fuck, Dean?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "What the fuck happened with us?" I wiped a hand roughly at my eyes, determined to stop crying.

My phone started ringing. I wasn't even surprised that Dean was calling me, as if he could hear me and was calling to answer my question.

I debated on answering the call and nearly let it go to voicemail before I picked up.

"Hello?" My voice was rough and somehow hollow.

"You ok?" He asked, his voice flat.

"Fine," I sniffled.

"You want to come back?"

The question hung between us. I couldn't believe he had the audacity. I fought back the surge of anger rising in my chest.

"No. That's not a good idea."

"I know. I was just hoping you wouldn't care."

I shook my head. "Not this time, Dean," I replied, my voice raw again. "I can't do that this time."

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know." He paused. "Where are you?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"Lizzy...tell me where you are." I could hear the anger creeping into his voice.

"No."

He was quiet for a minute. "You know me, Liz. You know that if you _don't_ tell me, I'll set the world on fire to find you. Hell, I'll turn everything to ash...including us. We might burn the world down, but what a beautiful fire it would be."

"You're sick," I replied, disgusted. "You need help."

"Are you just realizing that? You're way behind, Lizzy." He snorted derisively. "And here I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm smarter than you realize," I replied before immediately hanging up the phone and yanking the battery out.

I was done talking for today.


	53. Chapter 53

I didn't expect to sleep, but I did. I don't think I so much as twitched in the next six hours.

I woke up as the sun was setting. I stumbled to the bathroom and drank straight from the faucet, swishing the water around my dry mouth and throat. I finally glanced into the mirror and wasn't surprised to see that I looked like hell – my face had settled into grim lines, and when I forced a smile on my face it looked utterly terrifying.

I wandered back out towards the bed, debating on going back to sleep or putting the battery back in my phone and calling Aaron to let him know I was still all right and find out what the plan was from here.

I glanced longingly back at the bed before I made the adult decision and picked up my phone. I had six text messages and one voicemail. The texts were surprisingly mundane – Paul had apparently boarded a flight to Vegas some hours ago and had already landed. I wondered where he was now. The other messages were flight information, including one from Aaron about a flight leaving tomorrow for New York. I guessed that was the one that I would be on.

The voicemail was from Dean. I wasn't sure if I wanted to listen to it, but I figured I'd rip the bandaid off now, quickly, and hope it didn't hurt too much.

I hit the play button and was greeted by silence. Complete and utter silence.

I checked to make sure that the message was actually playing. It was, the seconds ticking along normally – and yet, I couldn't hear anything.

Just as I was about to stop the message and start it again, thinking there was something wrong with my phone, I heard a sigh.

"Lizzy..."

The message ended there. That was all. Somehow, it unnerved me more than anything else he could've said.

I sat on the bed, unhappily contemplating just what happened now and wondering if Dean was any better than he had been earlier today, when I was startled out of my stupor by a gentle knock on the door.

"Liz?" A muffled voice called. "It's Aaron. I have your stuff."

I made my way to the door, stopping to make a token attempt at smoothing my hair down into a somewhat-acceptable shape before giving it up as useless.

I took a deep breath and opened the door, attempting to smile. That almost immediately fell off my face when I caught sight of him.

"What...?"

"I'm fine," he interrupted. "Really."

The puffed eye that was already starting to bruise told a different story. I felt my shoulders fall. "I'm sorry."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "You're not the one who punched me."

I wanted to say that I knew that I was the reason he'd gotten punched. Instead I sighed, moving away from the door. "Come on in. Thanks for bringing everything."

"No problem," he replied, placing my bags on the floor before turning back to me and looking at me intently. "Are you ok?"

I shrugged, attempting to smile. That was really all I could muster for an answer.

He gave me a small smile. "I'm sorry. That was a really dumb question."

I shook my head. "Don't worry. Physically, I'm fine," I repeated from our conversation earlier. "Otherwise, I'm a little on-edge." He nodded in reply and looked like he was about to say something, and I realized right then that I just didn't want to be around anyone.

"I'm going to go take a shower," I said before he could open his mouth. "I won't be long."

He smiled. "No rush. Take your time. I'll wait here and see what I can find for food."

So that's what we did. I retreated to the bathroom with one of my bags, amazed that everything was accounted for and still intact.

I took a very long shower, steaming up the entire bathroom. I could hear Aaron in the room beyond, obviously making different phone calls. I didn't care.

All I cared about was trying to figure out how my life had gone so far sidways in the past twenty-four hours now that I had a clear head.

Dean and I...we'd been good. I'd been settling in to him and his life in a way that, thinking about it now, made me bristle a little bit. It'd been so easy; it had happened without me even noticing.

I tried to figure out if I fucked it up or if he had. I decided, after a long mental debate, that it had been both of us – but it was more on him than it was on me. His reaction had been wholly disproportionate, and if he hadn't been a fucking headcase about it we could've worked through it. If he'd just listened to me, we could've worked through it.

But he hadn't.

And now I was here. Sharing a suite for the night with his bitter enemy.

He really didn't think things through sometimes.

I thought briefly about Aaron, about what he would do if I walked out there naked and jumped on him. I didn't entertain the thought for long; like it had been with Wade on a night that already felt like it was years ago, it would just be a revenge fuck. And, truth be told, I didn't have that much malice towards Dean. Not like I had back then.

I wasn't angry. I was just...deflated.

I stepped out of the shower and wiped a hand over the moisture condensed on the mirror. My thoughtful, miserable face stared back at me.

I had no idea what happened now. I had no idea what I wanted to have happen, or what would've happened if things had gone differently this morning. I just knew that it all made me feel sick, and I wanted more than anything to go home and be alone.

Of course, that's when Aaron knocked on the door.

"Liz? Paul wants to speak with you."

I closed my eyes, feeling the brief twitch in my jaw. Well I didn't want to speak to him. Did anybody give a fuck about what I wanted?

"Be out in a minute," I said instead.

I took my time getting dressed, but Aaron was still waiting with the phone when I walked out. I tried to smile as I took it from him.

"Hello, Paul," I said, my voice surprisingly even.

"Liz," he replied, the relief hidden in his voice but still present. "I'm glad to hear your voice."

"Likewise," I lied. "Thank you. For everything."

"It's no trouble at all. We're sending you home tomorrow. I'd like to meet with you later in the week. Obviously, this contract cannot stand."

I heard a ruckus in the background at that, and Dean began cursing at Paul.

"Dean, SHUT. UP." Paul snapped. I'd never heard him speak to one of his boys like that. "You have _no_ say after how badly you fucked up today."

Silence fell in the background. I had an idea that it wouldn't last.

"Let me just reiterate how...sorry I am for this whole situation," Paul continued. "I can assure you that it will be dealt with swiftly and with the appropriate severity."

"Don't you look at me like that," I heard Dean growl in the background. "I don't even know why you're here; this is between me and –"

"It stopped being between you and Liz the minute you dragged _my attorney_ into it."

"Well if he just –"

"NO. NO. You're not turning this around on _anybody_ else. This is all you, Dean. You fucked this up for yourself."

There was silence for a minute. Then, "Let me talk to her."

"No."

"Goddamnit Paul, let me talk to her. I can fix this."

"What are you having trouble grasping? There is _nothing. To. Fix._ It's _done_."

"Paul," I broke in. This was bothering me more than I cared to admit. "I gotta go."

"Of course," he said, but then there was a small scuffle on the other end. Knowing what was coming, I waited it out.

"Lizzy," Dean said in my ear.

"What?"

"Come on. Let's stop this...goddamnit Paul, knock it off. She would've hung up on me by now." I heard Paul threatening all manner of punishment in the background. "You fucked up. I fucked up...I fucked up a lot more than you did. Just come back here. We'll send everyone else away and work this out."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Why did you punch him, Dean?"

He fell silent. "He got mouthy," he finally said. "I warned him before I hit him."

"How noble of you," I replied dryly.

"That guy has been trying like hell to pull you away from me since the day you met. And he comes knocking on my fucking door tonight after he rides into town like some white knight? Of course I was gonna fucking hit him. He's lucky I only hit him once."

I blinked back tears. Here it was. Here was Dean, in all his glory. Here was the reason I could never go back.

"Are you _listening to yourself_? You want me to come back when you're talking about how people deserve this kind of abuse from you? Let me guess; I deserved what you did today."

"No," he said after a minute. "All right? You didn't deserve...that."

"But I deserved some kind of punishment, right? How dare I _embarrass_ the great Dean Ambrose?"

"That's not..."

"I don't care," I cut him off. "I don't care what twisted little logic puzzle you're going to present to me. I'm done. I'm going home. And if you come near my house...if you call me...if you text me...if you so much as think my name, I'm getting the police involved. Stay away from me, you goddamn psychopath."

That's when I finally hung up and handed a stunned Aaron Delaney his phone.

"I wouldn't answer if he calls right back," I advised. "He probably won't like hearing your voice after that."

I didn't wait for a response. I went right back into the bathroom to finish combing my hair, my spine stiff with anger and my heart breaking in my chest.


	54. Chapter 54

I think Aaron sensed that I was in no mood for bullshit. He had room service on the way when I re-emerged from the bathroom and our night was spent in companionable silence.

I didn't sleep again, spending most of my night sitting on one of the couches, legs curled under me, as I listened to Aaron snore softly in the bed.

The spiteful part of me wanted to use the situation to rile Dean up further, but I was actually too angry for that. I was too angry to even consider speaking to him.

My temper had cooled a bit once the sun rose, and I was able to be a bit more sociable with Aaron. He had, after all, saved my ass when I'd desperately needed it.

Our flight left for JFK at ten. I would be back home before the sun set.

I shouldn't have been surprised when we were escorted to first-class seats. I began to realize, uncomfortably, just how much I owed Aaron.

"I'm sorry I took you away from your family," I said after we had taken off and leveled out in the sky.

He shrugged. "It's all right. I'll be headed back next month anyway, for Christmas. I'm just glad I was nearby and able to hop a flight to get to you."

I managed a smile before I carefully covered his hand with mine, squeezing it. "Thank you. Truly." I pulled my hand away after that, desperately wanting to not give him the wrong idea.

"Of course, Liz."

"I'd like to repay you for everything you spent."

He waved his hand. "No need. Paul is actually taking care of my reimbursement. He insisted."

I felt marginally better at that. I could handle Paul helping me in this situation, but feeling like Aaron was, as Dean put it last night, trying to be my "white knight" made me uneasy. I wasn't helpless – at least, not usually – and I didn't want the kind of man who wanted a helpless woman.

"You know, if you want," Aaron said, obviously choosing his words with great care, "I could help you file for a restraining order."

I nodded. "I appreciate that. I'll definitely think it over. Right now, I just want to get home. I'll give Paul the benefit of the doubt and believe that he'll handle this appropriately."

"Do you have a security system at your house?"

I turned and saw the genuine concern on his face and had to smile. "I do. And I wasn't lying; if he shows up I will call the police." I rested my head back against the seat. "I'm over this whole thing. I'm ready for the nightmare to be over."

"I understand." He fell silent, but I could tell that there was something he was holding back.

I turned to him. "What is it that you want to say?" I asked, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"I'm sorry that I was the reason he went off the rails."

I shook my head. "Aaron, really –"

"I know, you're going to tell me it's not my fault," he interrupted. "It may not be. But I still...I hate that I had any part in it. I know you don't want to hear that, but I need to say it. Just like I know you don't want to even entertain the thought of you and I having anything other than a professional relationship. I get it. Really. I do. I just..." He sighed. "I like you. Obviously. But that had nothing to do with me helping you. That's what any decent person would do. I don't want you to feel like...you owe me or something. Because you don't. I didn't do anything with the hope that you would fall into my arms and be so grateful you'd... I just wanted you to be safe."

I nodded. "And I am. Thanks to you." I reached out and lightly touched his hand again. "I appreciate everything you just said. I don't blame you any more than I blame the sun when it rains. It was inevitable that something like that would happen with Dean. I think I can finally see that it's who he is. It was just a question of when."

I felt my heart pound against my ribs. "I like you," I admitted. "I think you're sweet and intelligent and funny. I think if I met you at any different time in my life, I would've done everything in my power to be with you."

He managed a small grin, and I smiled back.

"But we met at a really awful time in my life," I continued. "I can't even entertain the thought of being with someone right now...and for _so_ many reasons, not just the stuff with Dean." I paused, biting my lower lip. "Don't wait around for me, ok? I can't keep you from all the other women in the world who need a decent man."

He nodded. "If someone catches my attention, I won't wait. But honestly, Liz, it's pretty rare that someone like that comes along. I don't exactly have the time to go out looking. I don't date that much – don't look at me like that; I'm being honest. I think the last time I was on a date was about a year ago, and it was to appease me mom," he laughed.

"You can't tell me that you've spent the last year sleeping alone every night."

He gave me a small smile and shrugged. "That's different. Does that bother you?"

"Not in the slightest," I assured him. "As long as that's not the case when you're in a relationship with someone."

"Nope," he said promptly. "I've been cheated on myself. It's a pretty shitty feeling."

"It is that," I agreed.

"Is that one of the reasons you need more time?"

I nodded. "We – Mike and I – were together for a long time. I thought we were going to get married. Everything was perfect, until it wasn't." I turned and looked at him. "It seems like there's always this switch I hit with men, this switch that turns everything from good to terrible."

"Was it like that with Dean?"

I managed to laugh. "With Dean it was like there was a toddler playing with the switch, clicking it on and off all the time. I could never tell if I was coming or going."

"Well, you're going now – and that's the most important thing."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Yeah it is."

"Any idea what you're going to do now?"

I shook my head. "I think the first thing I'm gonna do is go home and have a glass of wine. Beyond that, I'm going to wait to hear from Paul and go from there."

"And if Dean calls..."

"He'll wish he hadn't," I said firmly. "I meant it when I said that I was tired of all of this drama."

I would learn soon enough that even though I was done with this nightmare, it wasn't necessarily done with me.


	55. Chapter 55

"So," Paul finished, "those are your options."

I sat for a minute, attempting to digest it all. It was a Saturday morning, and instead of being cozy in my bed I was in Paul's office in Stamford catching up on the past forty-eight hours and everything that was yet to come.

I had expected Dean to be waiting for me when I got home – but he hadn't been. I'd been able to have that glass of wine and even got a full night of uninterrupted sleep before I had been summoned out into the world.

And now...this.

I shook my head. "Can I say that I don't like either?"

"You can."

"Well, in that case," I shifted in my seat. "Both of those options suck."

The options in question were either make my peace with Dean and return to the road in the position Paul had promised me...or stay home and work that same position from an office in Connecticut.

"I can't fire him, Liz. Not yet. I promised as much if he came near you again, but right now..." He shrugged helplessly. I understood, even though I didn't like it. His word, my word, Aaron's word...and Aaron was notably biased.

I tapped my fingers on the table. "The third option is for me to quit."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"No," I admitted. "I've been with the company for so long...and I like doing this stuff. I don't think I could go back to a cubicle now." I sighed and rested my head on the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

"I don't know if it's any consolation," Paul said slowly, and I already knew it was about Dean. "But he's very...upset about what happened. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him quite so subdued before."

"He should be," I replied, my voice stony as I kept solid eye contact with the ceiling.

"Of course," Paul agreed. I could sense that he wanted to continue speaking about this, so I decided to end it.

"If those are my options, then I'll work from here," I said, finally sitting upright again. "Give me a week off to get settled, and I'll get back to it. Let me know which office I can use and give me a revised list of responsibilities now that I won't be traveling."

He seemed disappointed, but also seemed to realize that pushing me wasn't his best idea.

He did, however, decide to throw one last line out to see if I'd go for the bait. "Dean wanted to speak with you. I told him that it probably –"

"No," I cut him off. "Everything that needs to be said has been said as far as I'm concerned. If he tries to contact me, I will be speaking with the police. I'm dead serious about that, Paul."

"Say no more," he answered promptly. He was being almost too accommodating, and it was starting to annoy me.

"If that's all...?" I stood up.

We said our goodbyes, and I stepped out into the blinding sunshine bouncing off the snowbanks. Grumbling all the way home, I elected to crawl back into bed and sleep as much of the day away as humanly possible.

Part of me dreaded that minute when I woke up and picked up my phone, but still – nothing. Instead of reassuring me, it made me slightly more nervous. This wasn't like Dean.

Two days passed before I finally started to relax. I caught up with some old friends in that time, and began to feel more like myself than I had in a very, very long time.

Against my better judgment, I decided to turn on Raw that Monday night. Part curiosity, part the fact that I was still a fan.

It was all going pretty well up until the main event, a six-man tag with The Shield and The Wyatts. I had to keep myself from audibly gasping when Dean showed up on my screen. Somehow, in less than a week, he'd gone from looking like a fit, healthy guy to just looking like hell. He was pale, giant bags under his eyes. He looked run down.

I shook my head. "Could be anything," I muttered. "Could be the goddamn flu."

He was more vicious than anything I'd seen in the ring. I thought at one point he was going to get them disqualified as he stomped on Luke Harper maliciously in the corner, screaming in his face between stomps.

"Jesus," I murmured, horrified but unable to look away.

Even after the bell had rung and The Shield were declared the victors, Dean kept going after whatever Wyatt he could get his hands on until Roman grabbed him and bodily pulled him away. Seth managed to put a hand on his chest and was talking to him in a low voice. Dean wouldn't look at Seth, but he did eventually stop trying to run at his opponents.

The camera gave one final close-up on him, and I could see him muttering darkly to himself. As the camera zoomed in, I found my senses and clicked the TV off. I wasn't sure of much, but I was sure I didn't need to hear what he was muttering about.

That was the night I got my phone call.

It came from Paul's cell, so I didn't think anything about answering.

"Don't hang up," Dean said when I did. "Please."

"What?" I snapped.

"I called to apologize. It won't make things right, but I would feel a lot better."

"Oh, I'm so glad," I spat, "that an apology is going to make _you_ feel better about attempted rape and mutilation you FUCKING ASSHOLE."

"I deserve that," he rushed on. "I know I do. I really do. And I'm not going to try to ask you to come back or anything dumb like that."

"So what do you want?"

"I really do just want to tell you how sorry I am. I..." He sighed. "Jesus, Lizzy. I don't know why I lost my head like that. I hate that it happened. I'm glad you decided to stay with the company, and I'm glad...I'm glad that you decided to stay in Stamford."

The malicious thoughts buzzing around my head slowed down. "And why are you glad about that?"

"Because I shouldn't be around you," he answered. "Not until...not until we've both had some time and not until I can trust myself to be near you without..."

"Without fucking pulling a knife on me?" I snapped.

"Yeah, I guess."

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose in a desperate attempt to stave off my oncoming headache. It didn't work.

"Did Paul lend you his phone?" I elected to ask, trying to pull us away from this weird scene while I tried to figure out what the fuck to say next.

"Nah. Swiped it off his desk. Which is why I can't talk long. I...it's good to hear your voice. Listen, that's not all I wanted to say," he rushed on, making me think he was already mildly distracted by me and was trying desperately not to get derailed.

"So say it," I replied, although my anger had started to bleed away again – simply leaving me exhausted, as I so often was when Dean was involved.

"Go be happy, ok? If that's with Aaron Delaney, esq...if that's with Aaron, then do it. You really do deserve the world."

My stomach, already tied in a big uncomfortable knot, dropped slightly. "Dean, you're not going to..."

"Jump off a bridge or something?" He laughed. "No. I'm going to do something harder than that – I'm going to let you go."

My heart started beating wildly in my chest. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he confirmed. "It's that whole 'if you love something set it free' bullshit. Because I do, you know. In spite of all our flaws and fights..,I love... Fuck. Just be happy, ok? I'm sorry about everything, Lizzy. Really. I regret it more than you know."

He hung up before I could say anything else, leaving me to stare down at my phone with complete incredulity.

Finally, I shook my head. "Set me free...right. I'll believe that when I fucking see it."

But as I lay down in bed that night, something in me dared to hope that he was being sincere...and was desperately afraid of the exact same thing.


End file.
